


None Like You

by poptod



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Ancient Egypt, Awkward Romance, Dialogue Heavy, Emotions, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Old Gods, Sad and Sweet, Sexual Humor, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, story heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:36:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21614689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poptod/pseuds/poptod
Summary: Two children grow up together. Only one is a god, and is destined to protect the other when he’s abandoned.(Simpler description: You're the god of the forgotten, and upon birth you become friends with the prince. The bond is lifelong and beyond.)
Relationships: Ahkmenrah (Night at the Museum)/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 66





	None Like You

**Author's Note:**

> yall this is so GODDAMN LONG I only meant for it to be like 10,000 words! i am S O SORRY!!!! also this is why i havent been really posting recently Ive been working on this hunk of shit okay anyway on to definitions:  
> Aur and Nile are the same thing. What you know as the Nile river was called Aur, because Nile actually just means river. Egypt is called Kemet. Ahkmen is, as you might’ve guessed it, Ahkmenrah. Kahmuh is Kahmunrah. Mahjur is you! Because I didn’t want names like Amy or Arthur to be the name of an Egyptian god. Hope you understand. Also, I’m so sorry about the two sex scenes. It was 1. good practice for me 2. pretty realistic. Apparently Egyptians REALLY liked their sex.  
> Also Hasan jiddaan is supposed to mean very good - yikes!  
> Anyway, hopefully you enjoy!

With a deep breath, your eyes opened for the first time. Standing over your lying form was a woman with the head of a cat, and she was smiling, seemingly happy with who you were. To your fortune you didn’t actually need to be taught anything - everything had already been instilled in your mind. Language, images, recognition, all of it you knew, and you knew how the universe worked.

“I have crafted you from the mud of this nile, the Aur,” she had said, and she introduced herself as Bastet, claiming to be your mother. You knew nothing else from experience but that, and you trusted her, which was a good decision on your part. “Your bones are made of alabaster and porcelain,” she said, and she warned, “be careful not to break them.”

You knew how the universe worked but humans were entirely new, with careful rituals that took hours to explain the history of. Beside your mother, both of you in a separate form of a cat, she showed you their inner workings, their worship, how you were one of their supposed gods.

“One day, someone will build a temple,” she said, leading you away from the small village. “They will ask for a god of something very specific, and when the time is right, you will know to come. Do not force yourself into any position.”

She showed you all of Kemet over the span of a month, and then she left you, having her own duties to attend to.

Not long after, you found your calling, a young child building the smallest shrine on the edge of a village, asking for protection. She had been abandoned, so you came to her aid, and you blessed her with luck. That was how you found your own footing in the world.

All of that happened in very quick succession, so fast that you wondered how the many years ahead of you would fare. Only two months you’d been alive and you’d grown to quiet popularity. No one spoke aloud about you, thinking that speaking of the protector of the abandoned would bring bad luck, but they built shrines, dedications, sometimes even temples. The hushed word spread so quickly in fact, that you had a garden shrine in Memphis of all places, another two months after you’d found your title.

When you visited, it was in your cat form, staying in the shadows of the temple and watching servants tend to the various cats who had taken up hold in the shelter. It was a nice building, with a short staircase leading to an open area held up by magnificent white pillars. Alabaster stone, you noted, with painted on red design.

That evening, relaxing in the temple, a noise from outside disturbed you. You arose from your rest, nose twitching as you dragged the scent of lion out of the air. The fur of your neck standing up, you came from your spot to meet the animal.

“Hello, Mahjur,” the lion said in a low, growling voice, befitting his long and unruly mane. You did not respond, not fully sure of what to say. You hadn’t ever met this lion before. In fact, you hadn’t met any lion before, and certainly not one that could talk.

“I am Maahes, your brother,” he clarified, sitting on his hind legs, looking considerably more calm once he noticed who he was speaking to. “You are Mahjur.”

“Yes,” you said hesitantly, sitting down opposite him.

“You’ve made a name for yourself - deity of the abandoned. Is that all, though?”

“Can there be more?”

“Yes. Our mother is the goddess of many things. Cats, namely, hence our forms, but also of fire, sunset, dance, pleasure, the home, and… many other things.”

“You don’t remember, do you?” You asked, almost laughing.

“Shut up, you’re two months old, I’m at least three hundred.”

“I’m actually four months old,” you said.

“And have you even once strayed from your current form?”

You hadn’t, but he didn’t need to know that, so you just sniffed, pointing your nose upwards. He scoffed, shaking his head.

“I’m not here for petty sibling feuds.”

“Really? ‘Cause from the way you’ve been acting it seems like -“

“You’re insolent. Thoth has news for you.”

You stiffened. You didn’t have to remember your mother’s advice considering Thoth as you already had the knowledge implanted at your birth - he was, in essence, the god of knowledge. Noticing your state, Maahes continued.

“His only words were, ‘be wary.’ My own advice,” he checked to see if you were still listening, which you were, quite intently, “is to be open to everything. If someone asks you for help, acquiesce. If adventure calls, go, but do not stay still. Be wary. Most of all, be ready.”

“Thank you. I think,” you mumbled, your brow furrowed.

“Be safe. I’ve heard what Bastet made you from, and I don’t agree with the material use. You’re very small, and… flimsy.”

“Thanks,” you said again, more sarcastically.

With a grunt he was off again, jumping off the short ledge of the temple, wandering through the tall grass that the rivers brought.

Throughout the night you contemplated his words, his advice, and the overall conversation. Be wary, Thoth advised you, and it astounded you beyond reason why he would give advice to you. You were hardly known but, then again, you were thinking that as you sat in your temple in one of the largest cities in Kemet. And perhaps your brother was right, maybe you did need to spend more time in your human form. The whole cat thing was mostly for worship and easy travel, but human was supposed to be your main form.

You breathed deeply, taking in the scents you could, for your other form was subpar in that area of things, before switching forms.

Almost as small as you were before. Not really, but compared to the servants still outside of your hiding spot, you were pretty small. In the shadow of the pillars you went unnoticed till dawn, where it’d be painfully obvious that you were a human, and to them, not where you should be. So you left, taking to wandering the streets of the great city, mostly staying in market areas. The homes sort of creeped you out.

It was a lively area, filled with different cultures you had no idea existed, all with their own fabrics, spices, and history. In amazement you walked through the streets, stopping at every stall you could to see what different things they sold. Eventually you figured out that many places sold the same thing but in different quality, or from different places. It bored you, but it didn’t put you off too much, still wandering with a smile.

One stand in particular caught your eye, filled with glittering gemstones and carved bone decorated and molded into fine jewelry. The man who owned the stand smiled as you examined the goods, getting pushed every now and then by the passing crowd. As your eyes trailed over the different necklaces and rings you found a band, thick enough to go around your neck, made of solid gold.

“How much is this?” You asked, and he replied with a hefty price. With a whistle, you materialized the necessary amount of bags of grain to pay for it. When the transaction was completed, the necklace was tight around your neck, hanging just below your Adam’s apple and rather heavy. You supposed you probably looked nice, but you couldn’t check until later.

Later that evening you found yourself being the holder of new titles, just as your brother had suggested the night before. Though you hadn’t officially ‘pronounced’ it (you had no idea how to do that) you wanted to be a deity of joy and innocence. This very sudden urge came to you as you watched a boy, older than you by around ten years, play by the riverside with a stick and three rocks.

He didn’t have much, but he was happier than any of the adults you’d seen walking the roads.

You’d later come to learn two things as you followed the child home: number one was that it was rude to follow people home without their consent. The second was that he was not, in fact, a bearer of very little, but instead a bearer of all the riches he could wish for, but it didn’t deter your fondness of the boy. He could’ve chosen from many of the vast gifts he was given but, instead, he picked up a stick and played with the fish. It swirled something inside you, and for the first time in your very short life, you smiled genuinely. 

A few more days passed before you even thought to talk to him. In your cat form you could follow him unnoticed in his palace home, and that was how you’d learned in the first place that he was the prince of all of Kemet. It was also how you’d learned his name, and it was the same form you often watched him in. If you were to approach him, it’d probably be best to do so in a form closer to his age. Your current human form was a more average age of twenty, so you switched it around, making a younger version of it.

It then occurred to you, watching him in the safety of the reeds, that you had no idea how to approach him. You hadn’t ever had friends before. Would he be a friend? Were you allowed to have friends? More importantly, how did you make friends? You’d learned from watching that simply approaching someone could be weird and you felt far too anxious to do so.

With a twitch of your nose your form changed to a child, and with your thumbs not in your previous form, you picked away at the mud beneath your feet. Beautiful, fertile mud black with its’ own nurturing. Gulping, you decided that maybe, making friends just wasn’t for you.

He wasn’t doing much. Just kneeling there, one knee pressed into the dirt, arranging the rocks and mud to make a house but it was all too much.

You turned. The reeds brushed against bare skin and cloth as you tried to walk away in silence, but the motion gave away your position in the still of the evening. No wind, no excuse for the noise, and the boys’ head turned in sudden alertness, staring directly at you but not seeing you.

“Hello?” He said after a moment of waiting. “Is anyone in there?”

You just sniffed, your body shaking from nervousness and your hands clenched tight together. Your throat too tight and too thick to form any coherent speech.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said with a giggle, his voice turning from alarm to playfulness. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Still, you couldn’t seem to get your feet to move. So closer he came, wading through the mud and the reeds till he came face to face with you, the two of you now both hidden away in the privacy of the Aur.

“Hi! What’s your name?” He asked, his eyes bright with curiosity, beaming a smile that only served to make you more anxious despite its welcoming features.

“Mahjur,” you mumbled quietly, rubbing your arm with your hand, trying to create some sort of distraction for yourself.

“I’m Ahkmen. Nice to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand for you to shake. You looked him up and down rapidly, having never come this close to him before. Then you took his hand, trying hard not to grasp too firmly or too loose.

“I’m trying to build a house for this turtle. Want to help?” He asked, grabbing your now held hands and pulling you out of your safety. You tried to say something, only getting out stutters and half words as he sat you down beside him in front of the failing little mud hut. Beside it, a tortoise you never saw before, looking rather unbothered by her failing house. She looked perfectly contented in her shell, but you didn’t say anything. Children were fickle. Then again, by all accounts, you were a child as well. Ahkmen was older than you. By a _lot_.

“I can’t seem to get the mud to stay though. Not long enough for a roof anyways,” he sighed, stacking more mud on top and watching as it flopped back down onto the ground. Without really thinking you pressed two fingers to the little mud hut, blessing the house and its innocence so that it may stay upright.

“It should work now,” you said to him, still keeping your voice quiet. It seemed odd to use, having never used it for extended conversation before. He nodded, piling the dirt on till it made good walls.

“There we go,” he muttered, pressing his lips together in concentration as he worked.

“The roof… might want to make that out of grass,” you suggested, watching as the roof fell again to both your disappointments. 

“You’re right,” he sighed, and the two of you grabbed at the grass, pulling it out of the ground and weaving it into a simple pattern. When the small square was complete, you placed the tortoise into the little hut and put the roof over it.

“It’s good you made a door,” you said.

“Wouldn’t want him to starve to death, right?” 

“Her.”

“Oh, okay,” he said with a shrug and a smile. “Want to go to my house?”

“Your house?” You clarified, wondering if this was what friends did. And of course, you already knew his house was the pharaoh’s palace, which might not be the most welcoming environment for an unknown child.

“Yeah! It’s up on that hill,” he said, pointing to the palace in the distance, the regular white painted red and gold in the dying sunset.

“Nice house,” you noted as though you didn’t know.

“I think my mum will like you,” he laughed, grabbing your hand and pulling you along. With stammering words and failing footsteps you followed, tripping over various things (including your own feet) before you made it to the entrance. 

Stone raised a few steps off the ground, the entrance lined with magnificently large pillar ordained with paintings, murals, and carvings, all etched intricately by artists many years ago. Guards stood in waiting, pacing the halls in shifts to keep the royal family safe. Torches also lined the walls, and burning incense filled every room with intoxicating white smoke.

“Fancy,” was all you said as he took you to his room.

“A little,” he said, ignorant in his youth of the poverty the people he would one day rule were now facing.

His room was just as fancy, gated with a large door that he had a little trouble opening. You helped, and with that you saw the grandness of his own quarters.

“That,” he pointed across the hallway to the opposite door, “is my older brothers room. I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”

You nodded, thinking mostly about royal succession. Ahkmen would, if all went according to plan, not become pharaoh. Turning to your left, you were caught completely by surprise by a new piece of architecture you had yet to see anywhere else.

“Wow! What is that?” You asked, rushing out to the platform that jutted out from the rest of the building. Around it was a railing, keeping you from falling off, and from there, you could see the world. In the distance, the sun had just disappeared over the Aur. 

“It’s a balcony?” He said, pushing past the billowing curtains you hadn’t even noticed before to stand beside you.

“It’s a beautiful view,” you sighed, breathing in the cool air.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” he replied.

  
“You’re quite smart,” he commented one day, a few months after your first meeting. He’d taken a shine to you, and you him, and you felt it to be the start of a wonderful, first friendship. “Especially for a baby.”

“I’m not a baby,” you grumbled, crossing your arms as he made his move in the game in front of you.

“Yesterday I tried to give you shoes and you didn’t even know what they were!” He laughed, leaning against his hands as you examined his move and strategy. You pouted, thinking mostly about how you were most certainly _not_ a baby.

“Lots of people don’t know about shoes,” you said in quiet defense.

“But you must’ve seen them around? Maybe on your mother, or father?”

“I don’t have either of those,” you answered on instinct, a sudden pulse of fear going through you before you remembered it’d probably be better if you left it at that. In your child, human form that was always growing, you couldn’t say you had a family. You didn’t, except Bastet and Maahes, and people knew who those gods were.

“What about a brother or sister?”

“Neither,” you said, making your decision and moving the piece.

“No home then,” he murmured, and suddenly the game in front of you was forgotten.

“I stay at my temple,” you said, thinking there to be no actual reason to really _hide_ your identity. Maybe it was your child brain kicking in.

“Your temple?”

“Yeah, I’ll show it to you sometime soon!”

You smiled, and awkwardly he returned it, and the game continued. Eventually he won, having been playing the game longer than you had.

Despite the fact that you’d been staying in the palace for several months, you had yet to run into his parents or his brother. He kept it that way, leading you away from more common corridors, grabbing your hand and bolting out of the room if any of his relatives seemed to be nearby. You never asked him why, as it always felt like an adventure, your heart pounding as you giggled, breathless on the floor after a sprint.

The many near abandoned hallways became well known to you, often unlit and uncleaned. Filled with old carvings and paintings from when they were once used frequently, before the building had been extended to fit more pharaohs and more gods. You didn’t mind in the slightest, coming to enjoy the feel of empty spaces filled only with your conversation with Ahkmen.

You had a temple, offerings, sacrifices. You had respect. An adult body. Godly powers. Sometimes you wondered why you chose to live within the palm of his hand. Then he’d grab your hand, pull you along, and you forgot to question yourself, only existing to laugh with him.

The day eventually came where he brought up the previous subject again.

“You said you’d show me your temple.”

You nodded.

“Haven’t done that yet,” he commented, earning a glare from you.

“Let’s go then,” you suggested, beckoning him away from the palace garden filled with greenery, through the hallways till you came to the streets, winding your way through before reaching the familiar alabaster steps of your temple. Cats still lounged freely outside, purring in the warm sun.

“Tajahul’s temple?” He asked, walking up the steps, you trailing behind.

“Is that what they’re calling me now?” You giggled as one of the cats rubbed his cheek against you.

“It’s a nice name. Not right I’m guessing,” he said as he rubbed his palm against one of the tall pillars.

“You know my name.”

“Mahjur? Shouldn’t this be the temple of Mahjur then, not Tajahul?”

“Yes, but I never gave my name, so it’s understandable.”

“I could tell my father,” he said, looking at you as he sat down. You sat beside him, cross legged as you both leaned against a pillar.

“Actually,” you said after a moment of quiet thought, “that’d be nice.”

“I’ll tell him I had a dream or something,” he plotted, a scheming look on his face.

“You mean lie?”

“I don’t really feel like telling him my new best friend is a new god.”

You snorted, covering your mouth as you laughed.

“Probably not,” you sighed.

That evening you were introduced to the rest of a terribly dysfunctional family. The whole table was set like a typical feast, and though your eyes widened as you entered the room, Ahkmen’s stayed relatively the same, so you safely assumed this was like any other dinner. Surrounded by guards and servants and fan wavers who all looked delighted to be serving their king.

The king, overall, looked bored, paying little attention to anything beside his food. The queen seemed concerned, glancing at her husband, only catching sight of you when she finally turned to face her two sons.

By sheer power of luck, the king was so disinterested in everything that wasn’t on his plate that Ahkmen could easily slip in the fact that you were staying in his room and have close to no reaction from his father. His mother didn’t seem so quick to accept it, but after seeing her husbands’ reaction, seemed a little more relaxed.

His brother sitting next to you said nothing.

  
Your friendship spanned many years after that. Over those many years, you hadn’t had one fight, agreeing to do terribly reckless things together. Each time, without fail, neither of you were punished. Unfortunately, you had sort of become the pharaoh’s third child - at least that’s how everyone treated you. However _fortunately_ , the throne was not going to you. Never to you. Actually, you had suspicions it was going to your friend.

Kahmuh, which you learned was the brothers name, was in all essence of the word vile. Not even truly cruel or barbaric, merely childish in a way that made him unfit to be the royalty he was. Constantly screaming and killing slaves (a habit his parents tried to break him off, unsuccessfully, of course).

In every field you’d run through Ahkmen had been by your side, or you by his, sailing boats down the Aur and watching sunsets from his windswept balcony. The whole world was a newfangled wonder, a toy right in the palm of the pharaoh’s hand, and by extension, his sons’. Only his youngest son.

You found yourself feeling sorry for the older brother, the king to be, having to deal with a sibling far more successful and well liked than him. One evening, when Ahkmen was around 13 years old (and you around three years old, technically), you attempted to speak with him. Immediately he forced you out of his room, and you saw where his parents got their disappointment from.

“Don’t worry about him,” Ahkmen had told you later that night, his arm over your shoulder in a comforting manner. “He’s just odd.”

After that you payed little attention to his antics.

That was two years ago, that night you decided that maybe Ahkmen was the only friend you could have in the life you had chosen. Not that you would ever complain, life was a luxury you could afford to enjoy with him beside you.

A few days before his fifteenth birthday, the Pharaoh offered to take him on a sedan ride, to waltz him around town. At Ahkmen’s apprehension, the Pharaoh quickly explained how well guarded it’d be, how there would be fan wavers, and he could have every need attended. Not that he didn’t get that every day.

“Can I take Mahjur along?”

You looked up from your carving, a technique you’d been trying to recently perfect. It wasn’t going well.

“Yes, of course,” the Pharaoh said with a smile, nodding to you. You nodded back, a more bow of your head. He left after that, his hands folded behind his back as his guards followed him out of the room.

Ahkmen came up beside you, leaning against the wall and sliding his back down till he hit the floor.

“You’d almost think they forgot I picked you up off the streets,” he laughed, his head pressed against the back of the wall as he looked up, his eyes closed.

“Off the _river_ , dearest,” you reminded him, your voice aloft from your concentration.

“What are you carving this time?” He looked over your shoulder, squinting his eyes.

“Trying to work on a face.”

“That’s a face?”

“It’s not done!” You whined, pulling the tablet out of his sight.

“I could teach you how to do hieroglyphs,” he suggested, leaning against you again anyways.

“It’s a bit fancy, isn’t it?” You said, still trying to concentrate.

“Come now, my parents are designing something and you could help them,” he said as he stood, pulling you up with a forceful tug of your arm. Your tablet clattered onto the floor, along with your carving tools.

“If you broke one of those, you owe me a new one,” you said glaring at him.

“Not a problem,” he laughed.

The next morning you did not take him up on his offer. You had a sedan ride that day, and though he’d requested for you to come along, you were reluctant. Slaves never settled very well with you, but Ahkmen insisted they were servants. Paid. You relented your pushing.

What was failed to mention was the exact _number_ of chairs available for the ride. Apparently it was weird for a Pharaoh to own more than two at a time, so him and his wife could ride comfortably. Any more would indicate weakness, or something - you weren’t really listening, mostly caught up in the fact that you were now subject to several miserable hours out in the heat sitting right next to Ahkmen, all squishes up in that terribly heavy looking chair.

“It won’t be that bad… we’ve got fans,” he said awkwardly, shrugging as he looked just as uncomfortable with the thought.

“You’re wearing three layers and a wig. I’m wearing _shoes_. I hate shoes,” you hissed.

“You’re _also_ wearing two layers of clothing, guilty party,” he retorted back with the terrible nickname, still glowering at you as he was seated.

“I -“

“Now come take a seat next to your husband,” he said with a smirk, patting the space next to him.

“One of these days,” you growled.

“Ah! Who’s the prince?”

You sat next to him, your arms crossed and shoulders tight as you both squirmed at the proximity.

“I’m not going to enjoy this.”

“No one said you had to,” he replied, sliding right into you as the chair was lifted onto the backs of eight people. You winced as you looked down, then in front of you, where the Pharaoh was being marched on a golden throne, surrounded by fans and guards.

“I suppose this is your day,” you sniffed, turning away.

“Thank you nedjem.”

“Don’t call me that.”

The heat of simply being next to him began creeping up your body all day, starting first at the thighs where you touched, whispering up your body, persuaded by the currents of the suns heat. Up to your hips, through your stomach and shoulders before burning into your cheeks, your already red face turning hotter.

“You look awful,” Ahkmen noticed halfway through the day, looking over with a concerned look.

“You look like a dream,” you mumbled, feeling like you were melting through your clothes. Certainly it couldn’t be that hot, right? And the heat wouldn’t explain your heart going haywire in your chest. It wouldn’t answer the weird numbness of your legs or the shaking of your hands, unless… you were having a heat stroke. That must’ve been it.

“No, really, let’s stop off somewhere, alright?” He put his hand on your cheek, testing how hot you’d turned, his face close up to yours.

You swallowed thick, turning away.

“I’ll be alright. We’re stopping at the temples, remember? I’ll be fine.”

“… Okay,” he said, looking like it was the furthest from what he believed but complying anyway.

In a few moments your breathing became under your control, the numbness fading into background fuzz and the shaking stopping all together. If you had, perhaps, been born somewhere near the year 2000 and gone to school, you would’ve had the experience and knowledge to identify what was a panic attack due to a crush. However you’d been born in Egypt, certainly not in the year 2000, and you had been born around three years ago. There was no telling what a panic attack was. Or a crush.

The day of his birthday you didn’t take him up on his offer to teach you hieroglyphs either, swept up in the chaos of the party. You were excited mostly for the music, till Ahkmen explained to you about the specialness of this specific party.

“My parents are bringing in a lot of wine for the adults. I haven’t been able to have it yet, but I bet it’s delicious. And,” he put his hands on your shoulders, staring intensely into your eyes and making you sweat, “I think we can steal some.”

“Wine? Why won’t they let you have any?”

“Apparently large doses of it make you a little dizzy, I’m not sure, but -“

“You do remember who I am, right?”

“I’m sorry?”

You hadn’t ever explicitly said you were really a god, not in a way of, “hey Ahkmen, I’ve been your friend since I was born, isn’t that weird because we met when we were both ten? Well I was born about four months before that point. I’m a god,’ instead more hinted at and replied to in a way that made it clear to at least you that you were a god.

“I can just summon wine if you want it,” you said, frowning. This solution was so blatantly obvious to you, but Ahkmen hadn’t ever shown interest in drinking wine.

“Yes I know, but it’s so much more _fun_ this way!” He smiled wide and chaotic, rushing down the hall in his new, golden cape. You followed in your silver necklace, dangling low on your stomach, an expensive gift by your friend a few years ago.

Peeking your head past the corner and into the kitchen, you saw the bustle of chefs preparing food for the upcoming feast. Servants swarmed, perfecting the platters and carrying them out. Off in the distant corner, in a large water basket, sloshed red as blood wine.

“That’s a lot of wine,” Ahkmen gasped, his jaw dropped as it took a few servants to set it in the right place.

“That’s heavy,” you mumbled along with his amazement. “What’s your plan?”

“My plan?”

You nodded.

“Yes, uh, my plan. Well, um… they’ll have pretty much unlimited wine for the party, right? So we just wait for all the adults to get too dizzy to see us and then we sneak in and take a little!”

That was a terrible idea for actual results. No shock factor when the adults found it empty (which they wouldn't), no finesse except deceit, and there was always the chance that it’d be drunk dry before anyone got too dizzy at all.

“Alright,” you agreed anyway with a shrug of your shoulders, thinking it’d probably be safer if the two of you didn’t drink in the first place. Then again, you’d heard pretty good things about wine from your visits with your brother.

“Let’s go then!” He whisper shouted, careful not to be caught by the chefs as he bolted out, followed by a jumpy you.

It didn’t take long till the two of you were sat together at the head table, gorging on bull and bread, honey cakes and jujubes. All of it utterly delicious, but you still kept eyeing each other, attempting silent signaling for when either thought everyone was drunk enough. The plan was simple, gone over as the two of you ran to the table. Sneak back into the kitchen, there was a whole vat of it, and all the chefs and servants would be too busy serving everyone to notice.

“This is going to be so much fun,” he giggled, the two of you kneeled side by side, watching the kitchen door from a safe distance.

“Take your cape off, it’s getting in the way,” you mumbled, already undoing the material falling from his shoulders.

“Hm. I thought it looked cool,” he said as he beckons you, slipping past the leaving chefs.

“It does,” you whispered into his ear, your hands on his shoulders as you stood behind him, scanning the room as you kept low. 

Keeping close to the furniture you made your way, making sure that no server was coming to refill their cups for serving. Once you realized all of the servers had gotten a refill you jumped, opening up the wicker lid as he grabbed two large cups.

“Aren’t these for serving?” You asked, playing with it in your hands.

“All I could find, hurry up!” He hissed, dipping his own in and pulling it out, running out of the room as soon as you’d done the same.

The two of you giggled all the way back to his room, as though you’d committed a heinous crime you’d never get punished for. In your mind and his, you surely had. You wondered, sitting on his balcony as the stars reflected in dark red wine, if you’d ever get caught. With your legs dangling, you wondered if you’d ever tire of him.

“Do you think you even _can_ get dizzy from this?” He asked, looking at you with a curious frown.

“What, just because I’m a god means I can’t have fun?”

“No, just… biologically speaking.”

You hummed, raising your eyebrows and wondering just as he did.

“Let’s find out.”

The rest of the evening was spent in an alcoholic haze. Turned out you could get drunk, much to the joy of Ahkmen and the surprise of you. You’d thought with being a god perhaps it’d take it at least a little bit easier on you, but to no avail. When you woke up the next morning, your headache was just as bad as his, and neither of you could recall how you ended up in each others clothes.

“You know, my clothes don’t look that bad on you,” he commented with a smirk, biting his lip in a funny looking way.

“Shut up, will you?” You had huffed.

It wasn’t until a few weeks that you took him up on his offer to teach you hieroglyphics. In that time, you’d looked back at the different ones adorning every surface of the palace, finding them to be a sort of art. Your growing interest and his parents beginning to shower him with far too much attention to punish his insolent brother made the both of you desperate for some excuse to spend some alone time together.

“What am I designing anyway?” You asked as he sat you down at the table in his room, papyrus and pen in front of you.

“Not yet. That’s for when you can actually write in this,” he said, giving you another sheet of papyrus with the whole of the main hieroglyphs on it.

“Yikes,” you said, pulling the sheet closer to you. “That’s a lot of drawings.”

“It gets worse!”

“Fantastic, why am I learning this again?”

“Don’t you want to help with my parents design, nedjem? I heard it’s going to be for me,” he teased, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Everything they make is for you,” you sighed, rolling your eyes as he began the lesson.

It started at one lesson per week, but in a second that was decided it wasn’t enough time, so it was upped to one lesson a day. Then his parents came swooping in even more, his brother beginning to target terrible pranks on him and you, and relatives tried to earn his favor so badly seeing as he was the favorite, that he begged you for two lessons a day.

“Three,” you said.

“Yes,” he sighed, a relieved smile bright on his face.

Three lessons a day and you began to get the hang of it quickly, what each image symbolized and how it worked as not an alphabet but an art. While most of your days were spent inside at his table, going over things and learning how to stroke in just the right way, sometimes he’d take you out. Around town, no guards, the both of you adorned in more common clothing, though you insisted on keeping your gold neckband. 

“Didn’t they teach you this stuff in, I don’t know, god school?” Ahkmen leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as your finger pressed into the painted hieroglyphs carved in the walls.

“I was born with holy knowledge. My mother filled in many human traditions. But language is so fleeting to gods, she didn’t think it was important to teach me this formal writing.”

“That’s dark,” he mumbled uncomfortably.

“Oh.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Learn to,” you chuckled, looking over at him to find him smiling right at you. Grinning, actually, a little dreamy like. You snorted, shaking your head as you read out what they were saying. Mostly stories, talking about your own relatives or other gods. A whole lot of Ra.

On the walk home, the sun barely touching distant hills, you confronted what it was you were really learning this all for.

“Could I know what this tablet that I’m doing is?”

“My father is making a tablet out of gold. It’s supposed to be connected to Khonsu. We were both wondering if you could do the design; he thinks you’re artistic, I think you’ve got connections so you could use some extra special hieroglyphs or something. What do you think?” He asked, standing shoulder to shoulder with you just as always. He was beginning to grow taller.

“Sounds good. However I don’t think I can call up Bastet for what will probably sound like a school project to her,” you laughed, and he nodded with a chuckle.

“I understand. I’m sure he’ll like whatever you come up with either way.”

After that day you had considerably less time on your hands. The lessons had stopped, yes, but the Pharaoh had decided his sons, and you, needed training. Specifically weapon and hand to hand combat training, ‘just in case,’ as he put it. Out of the three of you, Kahmuh was probably the most excited, and you the least. How could you be the deity of innocence if you were off punching people in the nose?

You didn’t argue with it though. Of course, you and Ahkmen complained to each other behind closed doors, but never to his fathers face. That’d be certain death. When Kahmuh joined you, ranting about how ridiculous this whole thing was. Even if he was the most excited didn’t mean he was at all looking forward to it. It was out of the three of you, meaning the standard for most excited was quite low.

“It’s foolish! We’ve got guards! I’m going to have at least fifty guards surrounding me at all times when I become Pharaoh!” Kahmuh exclaimed, pacing in front of you and Ahkmen as the two of you sat against the wall.

“Besides, that teacher he’s having teach us? I’ve heard terrible things about him,” Ahkmen added, crossing his arms.

“Really?” You leaned forward to look at him better. “What sort of things?” 

“He’s really strict, supposedly,” he said.

“And ugly. Violent too, I bet,” Kahmuh growled.

“I thought you liked violent,” Ahkmen said, shifting his position.

“Against you? Yes. But against me it’s horrific. I won’t stand for it,” he hissed, marching out of the room. You and Ahkmen looked at each other, brows raised in a questioning stance.

“What a funny man,” you said.

“If you could call him a man.”

“Oh,” you tutted, elbowing him gently. “Don’t be rude.”

The next day, bright and early the three of you found yourselves in a large, stone courtyard. Laden with statues and pillars, standing taller than the heavens and glaring down at you. You stood in a straight line, chests puffed out and hands at your side.

Neither of them had been joking when they’d said that this instructor man was ugly, and though he hadn’t said a word, he looked very violent, and the way he jammed his staff into the ground showed just how strict the next few months would be.

“You three are used to a pampered life,” he finally said, starting off his speech like any stupid fighter would. “And I - I didn’t know there were three of you.”

“Does this mean I can leave?” You asked, still keeping your position.

“No! Now, do any of you have any basic weaponry training?”

“I’ve stabbed a few people,” Kahmuh said, looking particularly and unsettlingly bright. You knew all too well he was remembering all those slaves he murdered… or maybe Ahkmen had embellished the story.

“Hasan jiddaan,” the instructor said in a cooler voice. “My name is User.”

“Typical,” Ahkmen whispered to you as his back was turned. You almost snorted before remembering you might get caught.

User went on to explain the rules of combat, of fair play, and how to maintain an upper hand while playing cool. He kept you intrigued, though your feet hurt from prolonged standing, and he kept his voice quick and sharp. To the point.

Once he had fully tired all three of you out with his lecture on ethics in battle to the point where at least three or four hours had passed, he gestured to the rack of weapons behind you.

“There you’ll find bows, spears, daggers… maces. I want you to pick one that you’ll master.”

Your fingers danced across the rack, deciding spear and dagger were too violent for you in a bloody way. The maces had beautiful designs, colored gold and black, but still too violent.

“There’s a sling down here,” you noticed, crouching down and tugging on Ahkmen’s skirt.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to choose from that shelf,” he mumbled, picking out a bow and returning to his position. Looking to your left, you saw Kahmuh had already picked out a long, black dagger.

“User,” you called, “can I pick a sling?”

“Yes,” he answered simply, and you grabbed it, standing back in line.

While you and Ahkmen fiddled around with your newfound weaponry, User grabbed Kahmuh for a more private lesson.

“This’d be so much easier if you all just picked the same weapon,” you heard him grumble as he pulled the older away.

“What do you suppose we do now?” You asked, sitting on the floor with your legs splayed out in front of you.

“We _could_ fight each other.”

“That sounds horrible. I could never hurt you.”

“Even if I hit you first?”

“Never,” you said with finality, crossing your arms.

“Look at you. You look like a pouting child,” he laughed, crouching beside you.

“And - and you look like a, uh,” you turned to look at him, coming nose to nose with his smiling face.

“Like a what, darling?”

“Like a - a very handsome, very spoiled prince,” you attempted your insult weakly, having it fall flat as he smiled even wider.

“Why thank you.”

“Would you stuff it?”

“Oh come now,” he grunted as he sat beside you, leaning his hand against your shoulder uncomfortably as he was now taller than you. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I didn’t either,” you mumbled.

“You didn’t mean that I was handsome?” He asked, looking up at you with wide, doe eyes.

“You’re absolutely awful, I hope you know that,” you hissed, feeling your face shoot up to the temperature of the sun.

“I do, you remind me every now and then. You still love me though,” he laughed, resuming his relaxed position on your shoulder.

“Sure,” you mumbled, fumbling with the sling in your hands.

The classes from that day forth weren’t as tiresome as they were annoying and dragged out. Why the two others had to wait while one person got their lesson was beyond any of you, but it did bring you closer in shared pain. It was usually right before lessons that Ahkmen and Kahmuh got along the most, whining and grumbling to each other about how sore they were from their previous lessons as you stayed behind them. Other times they returned to their fierce sibling rivalry. 

Eventually, once you’d gotten a handle of your weapons, you started on hand to hand combat. That was less fun, the repetition of moves boring the hell out of all three of you as you all punched the air in unison.

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve never felt more humiliated,” Kamuh whined.

“Really? This outranks the time you slipped in the mud and flew about fifty feet down that hill and into the Aur?”

“Would you stop bringing that up?”

Then came the sparring. Months after the lessons had originally started User thought the three of you were ready enough for one on one sparring, practice for real life battle. It was certainly interesting, watching the two brothers fight in an arena meant for fake fights. The way they fought always felt far too real, their punches too strong and succinct.

“Kahmuh, relax, I think he’s done,” User stopped his movements with a flick of his hand. Ahkmen was on the ground, backing up from his brothers punches as he kneeled above him. You sat at the edge, eyes wide as you stopped yourself from interfering. 

“Take a break, Ahk. Mahjur, face Kahmuh,” he said, beckoning you from your place. You swallowed thick, readying yourself as you stood face to face with the boy who had a violent fire alight in his eyes, a residual burning from the attack he had just done. 

Once User raised his hand to begin, Kahmuh launched at you, immediately going for a punch to the face. You blocked, throwing his hand off and attempting for a jab to his gut. While he kept his hands in fists, you kept yours straight, for more of a sharp motion than a blunt. You hit your mark, and as he keeled over in just the slightest way you kneed him in the chin. A dirty move, but he stepped on your foot after it, and considering he wore sandals and you didn’t, it hurt a lot. Still you kept your ground, attempting to block every one of his moves and trying to hit some of your own. 

Sure, if you used your godly powers the boy would be dead in a second, but that wouldn’t be much fun for any of those present.

Eventually, due to his sheer skill in fighting he won, throwing you to the ground with a sweep of your legs. User stopped the fight from continuing right at that moment, instead of letting Kahmuh finish it as he had last time. 

With deep breaths you hauled yourself to sit next to Ahkmen again, puffing your hair out of your face.

“Intense,” you huffed, leaning against the wall.

“I have a feeling these next few weeks are going to be torture,” he mumbled in reply.

“Hey, look on the bright side. If we get better, we can beat him up!”

User, in all his wonderful mercy, let you rest before calling you up again, standing you in front of Ahkmen. He raised his hands, and neither of you did anything, completely confused.

“Hey!” He snapped his fingers in front of your faces. “Start!”

“What?” Ahkmen looked between you and User, just as confused as you were.

“This is a sparring arena. Why do you think you’re in it?” User glared at him.

“You want us to fight? Each other?” You asked, eyes wide and mouth hung open in astonishment.

“Yes!”

You burst out laughing, followed in succession by Ahkmen, who held his stomach as he belted out a laugh.

“We’re not going to -“

“Now!” User snapped, and you jolted back into position, looking warily at your friend. He sniffed, eyeing you as if to say he’d take it easy.

You moved first, aiming a weak punch at his chest that he easily blocked. In return he attempted a hit just as weak as yours at your shoulder, something you learned could disarm. You dodged, successfully hitting the side of his stomach with your elbow. When you hit, he laughed, and you felt yourself get into the motions once more. Hit, but not too hard, dodge, and prove yourself to be better. Thinking of it more as a competition than an actual fight helped you as you moved.

When you tried to land a blow to his shoulder, he grabbed your wrist, and in a flash he twisted it behind your back. You gasped in pain, barely even feeling his other arm pressing your back against his chest. However, you could feel his heart beating fast, beating right into your skin.

“Ahkmen wins that round. Good job - go get cleaned up. We’re done for today,” User said, dismissing the three of you.

As you walked the steps back up to the palace and hopefully to the baths, Kahmuh gloated his victory.

“Wow, you won against two people who couldn’t care less about fighting,” you said sarcastically, waving your hands like it was a big deal. 

“You’re just jealous,” he said in a stiff manner, sticking his nose up in the air and running ahead of you.

Slowly, you and Ahkmen made your way into the bathing room, being greeted with steam clinging to your skin and servants at your hand.

“Come, let’s bathe together,” he asked of you, tugging the wrist he had twisted earlier. You winced as he pulled, stumbling closer to him.

“Why?”

“Well we can certainly see each other easier then.”

You shrugged, agreeing. Most of the people you’d met were casual about nudity, but for some reason you couldn’t find yourself sharing the sentiment. It was the reason you wore a cover over your shoulders and chest as well as your legs. All of that was stripped before you got into the tub, sinking into the warm water with a relaxed sigh, feeling the alkaline and juniper perfume relax your muscles and sore bruises.

With closed eyes you hardly noticed Ahkmen slipping in opposite you, sighing in a just as relaxed way as you did.

“See? Isn’t this fun?” He giggled, leaning forward and putting his hand on your lower leg.

“Something along those lines,” you mumbled, sinking deeper into the water to mask your reddening face. A servant pulled you up by your shoulders, tugging the wig off your head to tend to your actual hair which was much shorter. You looked away from your friend, feeling embarrassed to have him see you like that. Usually you didn’t bathe together, so it was rare that he saw you without the wig.

Ahkmen’s hair, in your opinion, was much more attractive than the wig he wore. Sure, it was short, but it was lighter and curlier, and sometimes you felt the urge to push your fingers up into it. Just to test how soft it was, because at least it looked soft. 

“Here,” he said suddenly, opening his hand out to you.

“What?”

“Your wrist!” He grabbed your bad wrist, pulling at it again and making you wince. “Sorry,” he mumbled, dipping his fingers into a bottle of honey and slathering your wrist in it.

“People say it’s supposed to help,” he drawled sweetly as servants tugged at his hair, pouring water over his head. You watched, blood running thick through your veins as they did so, feeling his touch on your wrist far more intensely than you should have. “I don’t know how much I believe that, but it couldn’t hurt. Probably.”

You hummed a distant agreement, barely feeling your own hair being tugged from your scalp.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” he apologized, looking up at you with those doe eyes of his.

“We _were_ fighting. It’s not your fault,” you said, feeling the hands leave your head as the servants departed for a moment. He nodded, silent for a moment before speaking.

“Mahjur, you’re… a god. Do you… do you know much about, uh, sex?”

You choked on your own saliva. No, you absolutely did _not_. Your mother may have been the goddess of fertility but so were fifteen other gods and goddesses and you were not among their ranks.

“Actually I know nothing. Nothing at all. Why?”

“Mm. No one’s bothered to talk to me about it, but I pick stuff up. I think it starts with kissing.”

“Sounds fun,” you said, feeling like you’d rather be anywhere else in the world.

“I wouldn’t know, haven’t done it yet.”

“Really? Aren’t you fifteen?”

“Shut up, would you?”

“Anyway I’m…” you rubbed your wrist, “I’m actually surprised you didn’t break my wrist.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s made of porcelain. Not the best material for bones, but Bastet said she had to work with what she was given, and apparently that wasn’t much,” you sighed, leaning back in the tub.

“Why have you waited five years to tell me this? I could’ve killed you!”

“I just remembered it!”

He threw his hands up into the air with a loud groan, splashing you as he did so.

“Let’s get back to your room, you can yell at me there,” you laughed, grabbing a towel on the floor and drying yourself off.

“I’m not mad, I’m concerned,” he replied indignantly, grabbing his own towel.

“Alright, mother.”

“I’m not your mother!”

Back in his room, he continued to pester and fret over your newly remembered state of fragility. You continually tried to tell him you’d been fine so far, and that you had not yet died, but it did little to comfort him.

“But you _could_ ,” he insisted. “What would I do without my best friend?”

“Experiment by yourself, I suppose,” you suggested weakly, sitting on his bed as he paced.

“Experiment on what?” He asked cluelessly, looking at you wish his hands on his hips.

“With your - weird sex thing you were talking about earlier,” you said, waving your hand through the air and whining when you twisted your wrist wrong again.

“You’re implying that if you’re alive I’d experiment with you,” he said out of the blue, suddenly in front of you, stating his aim clear as day.

“Wh - what? I, ha, I don’t know about that, I, uh, just - I -“

“It’s alright if you didn’t mean that,” he said quickly. “I just thought it’d be easier to have someone with a bit of shared experience.”

Well, you _did_ do practically everything together. Maybe this would just be another one of those firsts.

“Uhh… yeah, no, it’s fine. It’s alright, I just - I’ve still got weak bones.”

“I don’t think I’ll forget that anytime soon,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your inner wrist. You hummed weak, high in the throat.

“I still don’t know anything about sex,” you told him as he took off your clothing.

“Neither do I. This is just - from all that weird porn stuff you see in the temples,” he said, putting your skirt and shawl in a folded pile along with his own clothing.

“You actually look at that stuff?” You asked as he pushed you down on the bed.

“Sometimes. It’s good art, you know,” he said, kissing your neck.

“Oh! Uh, I never, uh, mm, never really payed attention to it,” you mumbled, the words catching your throat when odd noises jumped from your chest and through your mouth.

“I’ll take you to see them sometime,” he said, his hands moving lower to your hips in slow caresses as his lips continued kissing at your neck.

“I think I’m good actually,” you laughed awkwardly, your whole body feeling like it was about to fly off at any moment. He chuckled against your skin, the vibrations having a calming effect on you.

“I still don’t know what I’m doing and, I don’t know if sex with a, uh, not human will be different. Do you have the same genitals as us?” He asked, still not knowing what female genitalia looked like.

“I… don’t know? Guess we’ll find out,” you shrugged.

“Just like with everything. Not one damn teacher around,” he rolled his eyes and laughed, moving his hand between your legs. Something sparked down there as he did so, warm and shocking.

“That - that’s good. For some reason,” you added awkwardly to the end, looking up at him. He smiled, moving more decisively as he leaned down to kiss your nose.

“We’re having fun,” you joked, watching as he palmed at his own erection.

“Don’t we always?”

“Not always. Remember when you pushed me into the Aur right as we were getting into the deep part?” You held back a moan as he circled some sort of hole you had down there.

“I’ve told you a million times and I’ll tell you again, it was an accident,” he said, his brows knitting together as he grinded himself up against you.

“Oh,” you said, the sound involuntary as the new feeling came around you.

“Oh come on, I haven’t even put it in yet,” he frowned at you, wondering if you were alright.

“Put it in?”

“Yeah, like this,” he said, pushing his dick into you. The most incredibly, full feeling ran up your stomach, running sparks through your fingertips and eyelids as you shut them, a pleasant hum ringing in your throat. You barely processed him feeling just the same above you, leaning on his elbows right above you.

“Right. Put it in. That’s… that’s what that means,” you murmured, grinding your hips down.

“Ah, don’t -“ He grabbed your hips, stilling you. “Feels good. Just let me, uh…”

Turns out, neither of you really knew what to do. So he did what felt good; he pulled out and pushed back in, a weirdly wet sound coming from the motion.

“That sounds bad,” you commented, trying to push moans back down into your chest.

“Felt good,” he shrugged, repeating the motion, dragging hums and sighs out of both of you.

“Can’t argue with that,” you murmured, your lips barely on the skin of his shoulder as he continually thrusted into you, soft and gentle. The feeling of skin on skin alighted warmth within you, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the moment. You wondered for a moment if this meant that maybe you couldn’t be a god of innocence, but when he kissed your neck tenderly again, you decided there was nothing more innocent than childhood experimentation and love.

Could you say love?

  
“You probably can’t get pregnant,” he said as the two of you laid down on his bed, a few days after that evening spent together.

“Hopefully not,” you mumbled, scratching your head.

Love. It was such an intense word, so selfish and selfless, absorbing all your time and effort into the protection of just one person. The more you thought about it, you wondered if maybe you’d loved him the whole time. Of course, there many definitions of love, not just romantic, but you knew at this point that it wasn’t just friendship. Probably. Humanity was odd like that.

“Ahkmen?”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever been in love with anyone?”

“If I ever do, you’ll be the first to know.”

_Because it’ll be with me? Please let it -_

You shook your head, pressing your lips in a thin line.

“I don’t think I even know what love is.”

“Of course you do,” Ahkmen said with a frown, sitting up. You looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. “You love the water. The tortoises, and the grass, you love the sky. You love looking at art, and I know how much you love cats, and I’m sure you love your mother.”

“I do enjoy all those things. But is it enough to be considered love? How do I know what I’m feeling is really real? What if I really am some emotionless god?”

“Those are questions even humans ask themselves,” he comforted softly, scooting closer to you. “But… I think you do love those things.”

“Mm.”

“And you love me.”

Of course you did.

“I don’t like being an adult,” was what you said instead. You weren’t even adults yet, still at the ripe age of sixteen. Well, Ahkmen was sixteen. You were six. Technically.

“Why?”

“Too many complicated emotions.”

“Is this because I said you love me?” Ahkmen asked with a sigh, lying down beside you closer than he was before. “If it makes you feel better I love you.”

“As a friend, right?” You asked too fast for your own liking, looking over to make eye contact with him.

He shrugged.

“Why define it?”

You looked back up at the ceiling. Maybe he was right.

“Come now, we can’t spend all day in bed,” he said with a jump, patting your leg as he got to his feet.

“Please?” You asked, pouting.

“You’re such a baby.” He rolled his eyes laughing, dragging you off his bed. “There’s much we can do today. It’s been a while since we’ve gone through town, I want to get you something nice.”

You chuckled, coming to your feet and leaning tiredly on him.

“Okay, but I’m not agreeing to this because you’re getting me something. I just don’t want you to leave without me,” you sighed, trying to stand on your own. He put his arm round your shoulders, waltzing you out of the room.

“Lots to do, so little time!”

It was a surprisingly cool day. The sun didn’t hit quite as hard, though shining just as bright as usual. Cool breezes flew in from the north, and for a few hours during midday you were worried your wig would fly off into the distance. Luckily it stayed put, but you couldn’t say the same for your sanity.

He’d been so terribly close to you all day. Never mind the fact that you already stood uncomfortably close, verging on unbearable during hot days, but what was soft touches of knuckles brushing together was now your palm over his, from simple proximity. Not even from the actual act of holding hands, it was simply because he was standing so close to you it was near impossible to identify the difference between you.

“Should we go swimming?” He asked you, sitting on the edge of the boat, his legs dangling beside yours.

“Sounds dangerous. And it’s not very appropriate anymore,” his mother told him softly, not leaving her husbands side as she spoke. Ahkkmen looked at you, half rolling his eyes and half grimacing. You snickered, elbowing him lightly.

Later in the afternoon you trekked around down with his father, surveying temples and offering meager sacrifices which were more for show than actual use at this point. It wasn’t long till you came to your temple, and as Merenkahre did his duties, you and Ahkmen giggled in the corner.

“So - so there’s. There’s a lot of cats here,” he noticed, gesturing vaguely at the lounging cats. “Can - do you have a cat form?”

“I, in fact, do. It’s been a while actually. I’ll -“ his mother looked at you sternly, “I’ll show you later,” you finished.

The eventful day of town travel ended with a full meal, and a giggly trip back to his room.

“I haven’t felt this good in ages,” you laughed as the doors shut, feeling as carefree as you ever cold.

“Well there has to be a reason for that,” he fumbled, biting at his lips as he collapsed on a seat, staring up at the ceiling. You sat on the ground, watching him sort through his thoughts.

“I think I’ve got a magic penis,” he finally said, his voice far too serious to be joking.

“YOU DO -“ you hushed yourself in case anyone was walking by the room, “you do _not_ have a magic penis, oh my gods,” you laughed, covering your mouth as your face turned red.

“How do you know? You can’t prove or disprove it!”

“No one has magic - you know!”

“Genitalia?”

“Yes! You’re out of your mind,” you said, shaking your head.

“I’m mad, you say?” He asked, furrowing his brow and looking at you skeptically.

“Yes indeed I do say,” you replied.

“Then let’s do something mad!” He laughed, loud and crazy in your face, a childish act. You couldn’t help but laugh along at his antics. He came to your level, pulling you up by the hands with a great heave.

“What do you suggest, then?”

“Get dressed in something lighter,” he said, pulling off his own golden necklace and putting in its’ place a sheer material over his shoulders. You stuttered for a moment, taking off your own shawl and wrapping a much thicker, scratchier material over your shoulders, putting on a shorter skirt. He then turned to you, pulling your wig off and his own with a soft smile.

“I still don’t understand what we’re doing,” you said as you walked down the empty hallways.

“I saw this beautiful cove off the side of the nile,” he finally informed you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you along quicker. You stumbled over your feet, sloppily catching up to his speed. You tried to stammer a reply but the heat of his fingers digging into your bones kept you from speaking.

Down from the steps you ran in unison, lit by a crescent moon that hung low and massive in the sky. Off in the distance the lights of the city shone like the stars, more lively and dancing than the stars would ever be. Though you surveyed the mass of land out in front of you, all you could feel was the now searing heat of his hand in yours. It made you feel funny, if a little sick in the stomach. You swallowed, now training your eyes on the Aur, shining with star and moonlight.

Eventually your bare feet hit dirt and you continued down the path, tugging lightly at your wrist to get him to slow down.

“Getting tired?” He asked when the two of you stopped in the shade of a tree.

“I’m a god. A higher being. I outrank you by a thousand suns,” you panted, kneeling on the ground with the exhaustion from running.

“Yes, of course, darling,” he chuckled, kneeling next to you and kissing your temple. You grumbled, pushing him off, but he just laughed at you, waiting alongside you so you could catch your breath.

“You’re so rude. And no one besides me believes it!”

“That’s because I’ve mastered the art of deception,” he teased, hitting particularly hot breath on your cheek.

“Whatever you like to tell yourself at night,” you hit back, standing up with a deep breath.

“I don’t tell myself anything at night,” he sniffed indignantly. “I have you to listen to. You snore, you know.”

“So do you.”

“Fair enough. Let’s go!” He pulled you by the arm this time, making sure you kept up as the brush got more intensive, surrounding you in flush greenery lining the banks of the nile. When the dirt turned to mud he stopped pulling you, slowing to a walk as he took in continually deeper breaths of air.

“How that cloth has stayed on you is a mystery,” you panted, pulling at the back of the material on his shoulders.

“I have a pin. Not much of a mystery,” he giggled.

“We’ll never know the answer,” you said, ignoring his statement by pointedly turning your head away. He laughed, tugging you to the waters edge.

Sitting on a rock adorned with hanging vines you watched him. Dragging over the movements of his muscles as he stepped into the warm water, coming up to his knees till it began soaking his skirt. He then took off the shawl, tossing it your way, though you barely caught it, too enraptured with the way he seemed to glow in the light of the moon.

“Are you going to join me, or are you going to sit there?” He asked, smiling cockily at you.

“I think I’m good sitting here,” you said, coughing awkwardly.

“Come on, that’s no fun. I took us out here to do something fun and a little reckless.”

“I’d hardly call wading in the river something reckless.”

“My mother said not to, qualifies enough for me. Now come join me. Please?”

You glared at him, trying to force your way through those sweet eyes of his whenever he asked sincerely for something. Grasping tightly at the rock beneath you, you caved, slipping off it and into the short reaches of the water. Twisting back around, you set your own shawl on the rock

“One day you won’t get the things you want in life by begging,” you said playfully, letting him pull you deeper into the water, till it began soaking your own short skirt.

“Oh, but I’ll always get what I want from you,” he smirked, his hand on the side of your neck, his thumb stroking your jawline.

“I swear to the gods, one of these days I’m going to get you and it’ll look like an accident,” you said in turn, the both of you breaking into fits of giggles as you did.

“Relax, take in the moonlight! It’s a wonderful night,” he advised you, taking the both of you deeper in till the water almost came to your hips.

He wasn’t wrong. You didn’t even have to look around to know that, the feeling of cool water against your legs and the spritz of gentle mist and wind on your face.

“If someone steals our clothes,” you said, getting up close to him till your noses touched, “it’s your fault.”

“If someone steals our clothes I’d be happy to do a portrait,” he flirted, looking you up and down with flitting eyes.

“You’re dirty!” You exclaimed, making sure not to be too loud.

“Come here,” he entreated, smiling soft and pure, focused entirely on you.

“I’m already here,” you grumbled.

He moved in to kiss you, pressing his lips to yours like petals upon your skin. You closed your eyes, breathing in his perfume, wandering his body with your hands. As your hands came around his jaw he moved further into you, kissing deeper with a furrowed brow, grasping at your waist firmly.

“You’re very handsome,” you breathed out as you parted, his kisses trailing towards your ear.

“That’s quite a compliment coming from you,” he murmured, rubbing circles into your stomach with his thumbs. His hands dipped lower, tugging at your already low hanging skirt.

“I’m not having sex with you in the river,” you said firmly, laughing as he pouted.

“It wouldn’t be that bad,” he tried to convince you, pulling you closer so your hips met with his.

“It’s dirty.”

“I thought I was dirty,” he joked, kissing you when you just frowned. His tongue dragged across your bottom lip, pushing in when you parted just slightly. Following your gasp, he brought his knee in-between your legs, pressing up against your crotch.

“Ah, I, uh, guess I could, oh -“ he grabbed your hips, grinding you down on him, “I could make - make an excuse, but, uh, not in the - the water, I -“

“On the shore then? You want me to fuck you in the mud?”

“That’s vulgar!”

“It’s not wrong either,” he chuckled, dragging you back through the water and onto the black shore.

“That doesn’t mean you have to say it. And especially not like that,” you said, your voice digressing into a mumble as he began kissing your neck, pulling at the knot tying your skirt together.

“You loooove it,” he teased, smiling against your skin as you fingered at the edge of his skirt.

“I do not. I love you,” you murmured, feeling heat building up in your cheeks. He was silent, still sucking at your neck and clavicle.

“… You do?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes.”

He threw your skirt to the side, stepping out of his own, shoving his hips up against yours with a thick moan. You gasped at the sensation of him heavy against your stomach, pressing yourself back against the rock behind you.

“Ahk, please, I -“

You needed him to say something. Something to deny or return what it was you’d said, slipping past your lips like the moans now falling freely. But he just stayed silent, chasing the friction he desperately needed against you.

“How… how do you love me?” He asked, his voice rough and quiet as he continued thrusting.

“I - I don’t -“

He slipped himself between your thighs, thrusting at a faster pace that rubbed right against that wonderful spot. At that point you were pretty sure you didn’t have male or female genitalia (as you’d seen a naked woman recently), so you weren’t sure what to call everything down there. All you knew was that it electrified you, enthralling you in pleasure.

“I need you, I need you to tell me,” he gasped, biting into your sternum.

“Ah - mm, I don’t - I love you, I just,” you trailed off, almost jumping out of your skin when you felt him nudge against your entrance.

“Fuck it,” he growled, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist and shoving himself inside you. You let out an all too loud moan, the feeling off him thick and full inside you.

The two of you stood for a moment, gathering your breath and composing yourselves. He kept his hands on your thighs, helping you to stay where you were, nails digging into the sensitive skin. Your own arms were around his shoulders, pulling his chest closer to yours.

Then he thrusted, pushing himself in to the hilt, forcing another moan from your throat. Keeping you in place, your back on the jagged rock keeping you upright, he allowed his hand to come between your legs and begin rubbing you right where you needed it. He was beginning to know your body better than you did.

“Come on, finish with me inside you. I know how good you feel,” he mumbled, kissing your jaw in feather light touches.

“Ahkmen, I - you’re, ah, so good to me,” you gasped, trying not to let his thrusting get in the way of your speech, to little avail. 

With a few more well angled thrusts you came undone, muffling your moans by pressing your face into his hair. A few moments after and he came as well, biting hard enough into your shoulder to leave a mark. You were left gasping, the rock scratching your back as the two of you slid to the ground.

“What kind of love?” He finally asked, still panting, but looking at you through hooded eyes.

“What kinds are there?”

“Lots,” he answered, an answer which disturbed you. “Familial. Friendships can be love. There’s… playful love. Obsessive. The point is, there’s lots of love. Romantic is one of them.”

You tried to shift in your position on his legs, feeling his cock drag inside you. Wincing, you gripped his shoulders.

“Could you pull out? I’m sensitive.”

“Oh, sorry. Yes,” he apologized, that familiar wet sound following him pulling out, one that you recognized now as sexual instead of weird.

He kept you in his lap, his hands on your hips to keep you close to him. Looking down at him, the moonlight barely shining through the cover of trees reflected in his wide eyes, looking up expectantly at you.

“I suppose I wouldn’t know how to describe it,” you finally settled for, an answer that was inadequate for both of you.

“Try describing how you feel,” he suggested, and with thought you complied.

“… Good, all in all,” you chuckled, looking down. “My heart beats fast, and I feel like all that I want in life is to make you happy.”

“You’ll have to be more specific than that, Nedjem.”

“I told you not to call me that,” you grumbled.

“But it describes you so well!”

“It absolutely does n-“

“Just continue with your feelings, please?”

You sighed, leaning your head against the boulder.

“I guess… I want to hold you. But that’s normal, so is the whole kissing thing… I don’t know how to make this more specific?”

“I don’t want to alarm you, but - that’s not normal. At all. Mahjur, are you in _love_ with me?”

“I already said that!”

“No, I clearly remember that but what you’re telling me now is that you’re romantically in love with me.”

You froze. Was that it? Was he correct? Moreover, if he was correct, how would that affect your relationship? You couldn’t let mere feelings get in the way of your friendship. He was your best friend. Your only friend. You hardly had time to think about what it’d be like when he died, less so if your friendship ended before hand. You couldn’t even begin to imagine that.

“Mahjur? Are you alright?” He asked, cupping your cheek. You stuttered, meeting his eye with shame.

The entirety of your thoughts seemed to escape you, as though your brain had decided to take a vacation, leaving only first instinct for you to act on.

You laughed. Loud, your hands curling into yourself as you did so, your eyes darting anywhere to avoid looking at him.

“Uh… Mahjur?”

“Me? In love with you?” You barked out another laugh. “Please. That’s not… realistic. In any way.”

“You mean you having a crush on someone you’ve known all your life, spent most of your nights with, and slept with several times is unrealistic?”

“Of course I don’t love you, not like that!”

“Well I do!” He finally yelled, his hand slapping onto his thigh with a sense of finality. Looking directly into your eyes, he seemed to burn with his own intensity, teeth grinding and fists clenched tight. You blinked, breath quickened as you examined him.

“Ahk,” you spoke softly, placing your hand on his cheek. He sighed, relaxing into your touch with closed eyes, calming himself. “Let’s go home. I think you need some sleep.”

He’s young, you told yourself. But so were you, that little voice in the back of your head nagged as the two of you put your clothes back on. He’s human, you tried to reason, but the voice just replied, asking if you were really any different. He held your hand, walking the trail back to the palace, his eyes trained on the ground.

A long silence stretched, in which you both consumed yourselves in thought, only kept sane by the touch you shared. Distant, but certainly there, warm and familiar.

_Just acknowledge it._

_You feel the same; would it really be that wrong?_

You moved close to him till your shoulders touched, leaning into him and tightening your grip on his hand just barely. His lips quirked up into a small smile, pressing his own shoulder into you.

“My father asked me when you’ll be finished with that tablet design,” he said as the steps of the palace came in sight. You sighed tiredly, your back slumping.

“I haven’t even started on it. Who’s it supposed to be connected to again?”

“Khonsu. Can’t you remember?”

“Obviously not,” you laughed.

It wasn’t as though you were purposefully avoiding him for the next few weeks. You hadn’t meant to - you were just busy. Busy with his father mostly, designing that tablet and what it was meant to do. Something you weren’t allowed to know. Perhaps if he knew what you really were he’d be more patient and willing to tell you, but it wasn’t something he needed to know. Either way, the symbols you were designing unsettled you. Lots of imagery concerning eternity and death, so much so the thoughts began entering your dreams. What could the Pharaoh be planning?

Sitting on the floor of Ahkmen’s room, your back against the wall and your knees up, you fiddled with a small, stone figure. It was supposed to be a woman, but it didn’t look that much like it.

The door opened, and through it Ahkmen dredged himself through. He collapsed on the bed, turning his head to you with a tired expression.

“What’s been ailing you?” You asked, letting the figure dangle from your fingers, supported by a limp wrist.

“My mother is one hell of a party planner,” he grumbled, turning over onto his stomach and staring at the wall.

“What’s the party for this time?”

“Ugh… uh, I’m being anointed Pharaoh by my father. My mother insists that a celebration is in order, so of course she’s inviting everyone we know.”

“And the whole city.”

“And their cousins, yes,” he grumbled, turning to face you again. “What’s wrong with you?”

He must’ve noticed your own passive facial expression, twisted into a mild confusion.

“Your father.”

“Seems we’re both doing well,” he laughed. You chuckled heartlessly, rolling your eyes.

“Something of the like. That tablet of his is… confusing. And dark. Feels an awful lot like he’s about to do some very unsavory things.”

“Have you asked him what it’s about yet? He won’t tell me,” he said, stretching his arms out.

“I have. Hasn’t told me. It’s finished now, so it’s not my problem anymore.”

“I guess we’ll never know,” he shrugged.

“Isn’t it for you though? Shouldn’t you know?”

“It’s a surprise.”

You chuckled, placing the small statue on the ground and getting to your feet. Walking over to him, you collapsed next to him on the bed with a bright smile, linking your arms together. He scooted himself closer to you, breathing deeply as he dug his face into the crook of your neck.

“You smell nice,” he murmured.

“It’s your perfume,” you told him with a laugh.

“Mm. I have to say, I don’t think I’m going to enjoy being Pharaoh,” he said, changing the subject but remaining in his position, arm slung over your torso as he lay on his stomach.

“Why not, darling?”

“My father has hardly any time to spend with us, and he’s always busy with lots of boring stuff. Then I have to deal with my brother,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes as he mentioned Kahmuh.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s always jealous! I mean, it’s not my fault our parents love me more, it’s really his. I - you know how he acts.”

“Atrociously,” you said.

“Exactly,” he agreed. “And it’s only going to get worse! Imagine his hatred for me, but tenfold.”

“He _is_ the oldest. It’s technically his right for the throne,” you looked over at him, seeing him grimace, “but he, uh, definitely shouldn’t have it. A bit immature, isn’t he?”

“An understatement. Glad you understand,” he sighed, scooting ever closer to you till his lips pressed into the bare skin of your shoulder. Taking a deep breath, you relaxed, allowing yourself a midday nap.

In a few days time the palace was crowded with people, flooding with food and wine of the highest delicacies. You hung close to the wall, fortunately allowed to do that considering your status as ‘not royalty.’ Poor Ahkmenrah though, center of attention, was seated at the head of the table. No longer did he don the wig he’d worn so long, but in its place he wore a golden crown, rising high off his head and glittering in the light of the dying sun.

He glanced at you across the crowd, a half smile gracing his features. You just laughed, mocking his pain in a friendly way that he despised. With his head he gestured, asking you to come stand next to him. You sighed, shaking your head, but stood beside him nonetheless.

“Enjoying yourself?” You asked, keeping behind him.

“Not in the least,” he replied, continuing to keep his smile up to keep appearances. 

“It’s a far cry from your birthday. When we first stole that wine,” you chuckled, trying to bring his mind off his nervousness and bring it to a happier memory.

“I’d say so. Now,” he grabbed two glasses, handing one to you, “we drink freely.” You clinked your glass against his, taking a sip from the sweet drink. 

“Thank you, darling. How do you feel, now that all these people are your subjects?”

“Stressed? Uh - less so, with you,” he chuckled nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he kept his gaze down.

“I’m glad I can be of help.”

Per his request you sat next to him, on his right. To his left sat his parents, and to your right was his brother. It had been a while since you’d even seen Kahmuh, though he seemed to hold the same amount of poison he had before, glaring and tense. For the most part, Ahkmenrah spoke to his parents, leaving you to stare out over the feasting crowd and deal with the negative energy pouring off of his brother like waves of hatred.

Ahkmenrah turned back to the crowd, his mouth open and brow furrowed. He turned to you, gesturing to his parents.

“They’re already making their tombs! They aren’t that old,” he hissed, leaning towards you as he half whispered the words.

“Doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” you tried to compromise. “Besides, doesn’t it take a while to build those massive things?”

“It’s still morbid,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, still frowning. 

“Don’t worry about it. This is your night, love,” you said with a smile. He scoffed but smiled, grateful for your support. 

Somewhere near midnight, it was clear how on edge he had gotten. People came up to him, paying respects, bringing offerings that showed the prosperity much of his city had. He wasn’t ever one for conversing with hundreds of people within the timespan of a few hours. Thus, an hour or so after midnight, he gripped your hand, pulling you away from the table and leading you down the old hallways.

“Your parents are going to -“

“They’re too drunk to notice we’re gone, so is everyone else,” he said quickly, his voice low and clearly annoyed. Just from that you could tell how stressed he was, clinging to your hand far too tight and pulling you along in an almost painful way.

You stopped trying to talk to him, stopped pulling at your held hand, allowing him to drag you down the hallways till you came to his room. Flinging open the doors he pulled you inside, shutting the doors and collapsing against them.

“Wow,” you said, sliding down the door to sit next to him. “Someone’s not feeling very good.”

“It’s just a lot. I’ll be fine,” he muttered, rubbing his face with his hands. 

“Aww,” you tutted, snuggling in beside him, wrapping your arm around his shoulders and your hand on his arm. 

He hummed discontentedly, shuffling closer to you and resting his head on yours. His crown dug into your skull, but you didn’t say anything, just letting him relax. 

“I wouldn’t worry too much about the future. Everything’ll work out… and I’ll be with you,” you murmured, breathing slow and deep, closing your eyes as you dug your face further into his shoulder.

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t have much else to do,” you joked, feeling yourself grow tired.

His fingers came beneath your chin, tilting you upwards till he captured you in a soft kiss. You moved into it, shifting to a more comfortable position on your knees. He molded perfectly into you, warm and mellow in a soothing way.

“What would I do without you?” He mumbled, still keeping his lips right above yours.

“Probably try to become friends with your brother.”

“Yuck.”

You laughed, resting your forehead on his shoulder as he joined you, the vibrations of his laugh spreading from his chest to yours. 

“A very apt word,” you giggled, pressing quick kisses to his cheek.

“Yes - mm,” he grabbed your cheeks, pulling you to kiss him on the lips.

You ended up just sitting beside him, half asleep for the next hour. For the most part you did not speak to each other, reveling in the silence that peace between two good friends brought. When your head drooped, obviously falling asleep, he spoke.

“Let’s get to bed,” he suggested quietly, moving you to your feet.

“I’m sure your parents and your subjects are waiting for you,” you slurred, leaning against him.

“And I’m sure they’re drunk. Bed time,” he chuckled, and the both of you collapsed on the bed.

“Take the crown off.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to wake up with a massive headache,” you said, tugging uselessly at it.

“Fine,” he said, pulling it off and setting it on the ground beside him.

Still fully clothed, you curled up next to each other, falling fast asleep in a half drunk, hazy state.

The sun hid just below the horizon when you woke, dragging yourself away from Ahkmenrah’s hold. He mumbled something incoherent, quickly falling back asleep. You smiled to yourself, kissing his cheek before you left to the balcony. 

You could still hear shouts from around town, singing and joyful drinking echoing all the way up to the palace where you stood. Dusk rounded the corner, the sky just barely glowing, the curtains behind you billowing in the wind.

Beside you, Maahes appeared. You furrowed your brow, wondering silently why he was there. You hadn’t seen him in forever - maybe he wanted to talk.

But his eyes watered. They were red, and his mouth parted as he took a shaky breath.

“Mahjur,” he spoke, holding out his hand. “I am so sorry for this.”

“Sorry for what? Maahes -“

He grabbed you by the waist, restraining you, keeping you looking towards the city. Behind you the door creaked open, and you could hear Ahkmenrah stir with a quiet mumble.

“Good morning,” he said, sounding confused. “What are you doing here?”

All you heard was footsteps. The person who had entered did not speak, stepping closer to the bed.

“Wait, Kahmuh, I -“

You felt your heart beating faster. Faster, faster, and faster, beating out of its cage at a painful rate, cracking away at your resolve to stay complicit.

“No, what are you doing, please! Help!!”

“Everyone’s asleep, dear brother,” Kahmuh said in a low voice, and suddenly Ahkmenrah’s screams were muffled. A shimmering sound of a blade came from behind you and you twisted, elbowing and kicking your own brother wherever you could just to see. Only to help, you needed to get to him, needed it more than anything, and still -

A slashing sound echoed through the chamber. With a burst of strength you turned yourself and Maahes around, watching, drowning in your own helplessness as Ahkmenrah pushed his brother away, dragging his bloodied self out of the room. Kahmuh ran after him, pulling him back into his room and driving a black knife into the back of your friend, over, and over, and over again, muffling his dying screams with his other hand.

“Ahkmen, no!” You cried, jumping off the ground, pulling as hard as you could, cracking your own fragile bones as you pushed and pushed against your brother. But Maahes didn’t even have to use his full strength. He was strong, you were weak, and easy to hold back. 

Even Kahmuh couldn’t hear you. Even as Ahkmenrah stopped flailing, resigned himself to being naught but a body in a pool of its’ own blood, he kept stabbing. Viciously, till the doors of the chamber opened, and the dreadful cry of his mother rang through the hallways, alerting guards and servants alike, calling her husband.

Only then you felt your throat hoarse with your screaming, your cheeks hot with tears and muscles tired from the strain. You couldn’t help it as you continued crying, still desperately trying to get to Ahkmenrah, hoping beyond hope that he was still alive. 

You closed your eyes tightly, feeling tears burn through your skin, your nails digging into the arms of your brother. When you opened them, you were not where you were before.

Surrounding you were clouds, alight with a golden haze, and in front of you was your mother. It had been so long since you’d seen her, a rush of joy went through you before quickly dying. Grief had not yet struck you, but it wouldn’t be long till.

“Mahjur, my beautiful child,” she said, and you had almost forgotten how soothing her voice was. She gathered you in a hug and you melted, your tears staining her dress.

“My best friend has died,” you sobbed against her, catching a glimpse of Maahes standing to the side with a remorseful look on his face.

“I know. It’s not your fault,” she cooed, stroking your hair.

“Why did you hold me back?” You opened your eyes, referring now to your brother.

“I needed to. Divine intervention is not allowed in matters of life and death, but more importantly the latter.”

“I don’t even know what half of those words mean!” You cried, knowing full well what he meant. Maahes still shied away, closing his eyes as he watched you sob. “Send me back,” you begged.

“The spirits of the dead roam the earth,” Bastet spoke in a soft voice, pulling you away from her body so she could look at you. “Ahkmen will roam the earth incorporeally, till his tomb is completed, and Anubis and Ma’at have prepared his hearing.”

“His hearing?” You sniffed.

“The rite of passage.”

“Oh,” you said, recalling the afterlife once more. “I need to go back, he’s probably lost and confused.”

“Do what you must, darling,” your mother hummed.

When you blinked again you were back where you were before, facing the bedroom, standing on the balcony. Below you you heard soft crying, muffled by hands. Looking down you saw Ahkmenrah, his form fuzzy and transparent.

“Ahk?” You whispered, kneeling down beside him. His legs dangled off the edge, his head in his hands, the golden cloak he wore so often laid out behind him. It glittered in the morning light, though still see through.

“Mahjur?” He looked up, sniffing, his eyes red and puffy with tears. His eyes widened, standing up and pulling you into a hug. To your surprise he did not go through you as you had expected, but he felt warm against you, as though he were still alive. Tender and tight you embraced him, burying yourself in his scent and hold. 

“I thought I lost you forever,” you breathed out, tears pricking away at your eyes.

“I thought I left you behind,” he replied, just as choked up as you were.

“Let’s just say it’s been an emotional morning,” you said, kissing below his ear, moving to his cheek. He laughed, almost cheery, smiling bright as he held your face in his hands.

“I’ve never been more happy to see you,” he cried, kissing you on the lips.

“Not even after that lesson about granary?”

“You’re - unbearable,” he laughed, catching your tears with kisses.

You laughed, pulling him into another tight hug. He breathed deeply against you, holding you firm to him.

“Oh Mahjur,” he murmured, his face pressed into the crook of your neck. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“Uh… it’s a little… morbid,” you warned him, but he nodded, waiting for you to continue. “You need to wait till they bury your body in a sarcophagus. Then you… can do all that, uh, Hall of Two Truths thing.”

“Hopefully they bury me properly,” he muttered, frowning.

“You mean with that papyrus with all the truths?”

“Yes, I mean that,” he grumbled, his fingers fiddling with the material of your shawl.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” you said, looking over the edge of the balcony. “You’re royal. I don’t think they’d forget.”

He looked over the edge as well, measuring up the height of the palace from where his room was situated to the ground below.

“Y’think we could survive that fall? I’ve always wanted to jump off here,” he finally said, giving you a mischievous smirk.

“We’re already dead. Can’t get much worse.”

He shrugged, grabbing your hand and pulling you off with him. You expected the wind to whip loudly around you, pulling at your clothes and biting your skin, but it was actually rather pleasant. Together, you drifted slowly downwards, holding hands all the way. With a laugh you looked over at him, finding him in the same state of delight.

The ground soon approached, and you landed with a feather light touch.

“Not quite as risky as I thought it’d be,” he said with a shaky breath.

“Let’s just be grateful you didn’t try it when you were alive, alright?”

Was it the appropriate time to be making death jokes? Either way you’d already said it. It didn’t seem to bother him too much either you noticed as he laughed, falling into you with his side.

“Oh my god, my parents,” he said suddenly, and you could feel the dread killing the joy he felt.

“They’ll be alright,” you tried to comfort, but in that short second he was already too far gone, clutching your shirt and staring into you with wild eyes.

“My brother! What are they going to think?!”

“Your _brother_?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Yes! My brother, oh goodness, they’re going to be so worried! Do you think I could say good bye? Can they even see me?”

It hit you very suddenly, like a punch to the nose that knocked out all your senses, blocking your air. He didn’t remember how he died. How that was possible, how that worked you hadn’t the faintest idea, but you did clearly remember that he did not see his body. He was turned away. What could you say to him? The truth?

“I’m sure your brother will make a good pharaoh. If not, there’s always cousins. And your parents will understand. It’s hard, but they’ll understand.”

“Oh, dearest… do you think we could check on them?”

You exhaled sharply, unsure. You weren’t any more wise than him in your age, and even containing all the understandings of the musings of the universe, you couldn’t find an answer.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you said quietly, nodding just slightly. “But I think it’d be best to avoid your room.”

“Why?”

“Seeing your own dead body, I’m assuming, probably isn’t a nice experience.”

“Ah. Uh, you’re probably right,” he agreed, pursing his lips together, following your lead around the palace and back up the steps. 

Around you people swarmed, but none saw you, multiple walking through you. You’d gone through the experience before, when Bastet was first showing you Kemet, but the feeling was new to Ahkmenrah. Upon the first person walking through him, a man in his golden years, he stopped, gasping and shivering.

“What was that?” He asked, turning to you with wide eyes, desperately wanting an answer. 

“Not much - seems like that man just walked through you. You’ll get used to it, it’s normal.”

“It felt like searing heat,” he said with a frown, holding your hand once more and following you.

As you had guessed, the visit did little to really help him. He had gone hoping for closure but was left with more questions and needs than he had arrived with, wishing more and more with each step you took away from his sobbing mother, that he could simply comfort her. You held his hand tight, a reminder each time he looked back that he could do nothing.

It was an intense thing to go through at such a young age. Or so you presumed, you hadn’t ever thought about this - the in-between from life and death. Still walking among the living but not with them. But, maybe, it was something everyone expected. On the other hand it might’ve just as well been something that no one anticipated. Looking over at Ahkmen, he didn’t seem to be doing well enough for such questions. So, in silence you sat with him by the river side. Off in the distance to your left you saw the trees of the cove you’d been to with him. An emotional night, you remembered, but you tried to keep your thoughts on the present. Your friend needed you.

“What do we do till I’m… fully dead? Will you still be able to visit me?”

“One question at a time,” you laughed softly. “Concerning your first one, we can do whatever you want. Regarding your second question, I’m not too sure. I could ask my mother to pull some strings.”

“Who _is_ your mother, anyway?”

“Same woman who made me. Bastet.”

“Ah, right,” he said, seeming to suddenly recall the various hints you’d dropped. “Do you think we can still have sex?”

“Gross,” you said off instinct, shriveling up your nose. “You’re dead and that’s one of your worries?”

“At least it wasn’t my first worry,” he laughed.

“… I guess,” you grumbled, shifting your clothes to cover more of you. 

Both of you sat cross legged next to each other on the banks of the Aur, not worrying for your skirts getting dirty with the mud. A few people came down, a few bathing, and a few coming for better fertilizer. Some came for water, but none noticed you. Life seemed peaceful, almost maddeningly so, completely invisible. Too long, you thought, and one might wonder if they were real at all.

Much of life felt like that, so thank goodness you had Ahkmen beside you. Never one for long, quiet moments that lasted just a little too long, he ranted. About anything at all. Often it was about food, how he hated to lose taste of all senses. Most of the time you laughed, just staring at him with a dopey smile on your face as he yelled at the air, his hands gesturing wild and in sharp movements. While people ran around you, caught up in their lives, you never once looked away from him. Everyone else blended together as your whole world came crashing down to a single point - him.

“-and it’s not like they have to follow that rule, right?” He asked, his hands gesturing to the people below.

The two of you sat upon the tallest statue you could find, easily climbable in your inexhaustible state. For the past hour and a half he’d been discussing incest and its’ relationship with royalty and commoners.

“Right,” you agreed easily.

“Commoners are gross most of the time -“

“Don’t be rude.”

“ - sorry - but, they can’t afford the niceties that we can, anyway. So if even _they_ won’t do something, I don’t think we should.”

“I think you’re looking at it from a negative angle.”

“It’s a negative thing!”

“It might be that you think that only because you don’t get along with your brother and, he’s, well, your _brother_. What about cousins?” You asked, leaning your head on your hand.

“No! I have never, ever found my cousins attractive! I mean, thank the gods my parents aren’t related.”

“What would happen if they were?”

“… You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

A smile broke off your face, cracking you up as you shook your head, sighing.

“Alright, you got me. I don’t really favor it either,” you finally agreed.

“You’re a little trickster,” he said, ruffling your hair.

“You’re a little boy.”

“I’m still older than you!”

Once a day you’d go back to the palace and check how things were going. Every now and then Ahkmen would follow close behind, hiding behind your back like he’d be seen. In those trips with him, you spent the majority of your time hiding how he died and his body from him. Stab wounds or not, dead versions of yourselves aren’t pleasant things to see.

You had learned a good deal - the tombs being built for his parents would be fitted to host him as well, a special chamber in between his mother and father. It all felt too morbid and too real, so you tried not to spend too much time listening to building plans. The only other thing to do was to see how preparations were coming with his body. Mostly making sure they were burying him with everything needed.

“I do _not_ want to go into that hall of truths without that paper!”

“Wow, you’re rather insistent about this aren’t you? Any childhood fears I should know about?”

“I - I just, imagine getting eaten just because you forgot something. I’d get eaten every other day!”

“Ahkmen,” you said, squishing his cheeks together with your hands, pulling him closer to you. “They aren’t going to forget.”

He blushed, frowning and pushing you away.

“Probably,” he mumbled.

With your newfound inability to fall asleep many nights were spent stargazing. According to those living within Kemet, whenever a king died, they became a star. That wasn’t at all correct. You knew that, instilled with such a knowledge of the heavens and everything below that you had to fight yourself each time Ahkmen asked a question to not share too much.

You lay beside him in the great expanse of the desert, staring up into the vastness of the lights, lining the sky with a thick belt and shining so brightly it would’ve kept you up, could you need sleep.

“I never thought of it before,” he said, moving closer to you, “but do you think I’d become a star? I mean, I wasn’t really Pharaoh that long, was I… would it count?”

“Pharaohs don’t become stars. When someone good dies there is a god in the south who takes their body, their ashes, whatever is left of them, and turns them into a star. Thus they keep their soul in whatever way they see fit, and there is a star remembering them. This good person, they don’t need to be a king. In fact it’s often not kings. It’s just… good people. Like you.” You nudged him with your elbow, smiling gently.

“You know a lot about this stuff,” he commented.

“It’s the heavenly knowledge. That, and it’s interesting.”

“What else do you know?”

“A lot.”

“I mean about the stars.”

“Oh, that. Uh… you’re made of dead stars. We all are. When a star dies, which they only do once every fifty human lifetimes, their stuff goes everywhere. Then a very special person is born only in idea, and a god from the east takes the star stuff, takes that idea, and molds them. Then they write their story with the winds of the north and the water underground, and once all is written and prepared, they are put on earth to grow. If they are good, they become stars. If they are bad, they rot and fester in the earth till they fertilize the plants, which, are in turn, eaten by the animals of the plains.”

He looked at you with furrowed brow, his mouth parted slightly, looking thoroughly confused and mildly grossed out.

“Too dark?”

“Yeah, bit too much - interesting, though. Didn’t have to phrase that last part like that.”

“Right, right. Sorry.”

He was quiet, before he asked, “what are you made of?”

“Mud mostly,” you said, looking up at the stars, your hands crossed behind your head as a makeshift cushion.

“What else?”

“Alabaster. Not conventional ingredients, I know.”

“Oh my - what happened to you?”

“What? What’s wrong?” You bolted upright, grabbing his hands, scanning his face frantically.

“No, you’re fine but, what do my parents think happened to you?!”

You hadn’t actually… thought of that.

“That’s a question for the morning,” you sighed, caught off guard but glad nothing was wrong. You leaned forward, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

He put his arm around you, allowing you to relax into him. He allowed you to listen to his breathing, to mourn at his lack of heartbeat, lack of pulse, and to adore his warmth. 

“I think I like you more with your real hair,” he mumbled, his face pressed into the top of your head.

“It’s much shorter,” you said.

“It’s easier to pull, too,” he chuckled, tugging on it harshly, stopping when he noticed you didn’t budge. Actually, you nearly _purred,_ pressing yourself into him more.

“That feels nice,” you hummed.

“Did you just purr?” He asked at the same time.

“Well, I am partly cat.”

“Weird.”

“Rude,” you shot back, going weak when he put his hand in your hair again, petting you and making you warm all over.

“I love you,” he murmured in the silence, and in all the world you seemed to be the only ones alive. Secluded from everything you knew and everything you didn’t, only existing for the sake of each other. It seemed pure bliss, stretching for miles around you, his words echoing in that blissful quiet.

“I love you too,” you replied.

In the morning you kept your word, finding the answer to his question. What happened to your physical body? What did they think happened to you? 

Turned out the answer was not as nice as you might’ve thought. You suspected that perhaps your physical body simply disappeared. Ahkmen didn’t express his own thoughts on the idea beforehand, so you had no idea what to say when looking through records and finding you died of all the bones in your body being crushed.

“… Wow.”

“Uh, yeah,” you said, blinking at the papyrus in front of you.

“At least it sounds badass.”

“You’re the worst.”

The rest of the day was spent attempting to cleanse yourself of the image of your body mangled and bloodied on the bedroom floor. You thought that perhaps you weren’t even bloody - maybe it was mud that spilled out. You also knew, right as you saw it, that it had been your brothers doing. Not on purpose - simply stopping you from saving your friend. 

You kept up to date with the proceedings till you, alongside Ahkmen, watched as his sarcophagus was carried into the large tomb.

All around you quiet seemed to engulf the space. You stood close to him, your shoulders brushing as you watched with unblinking eyes as he was lowered away, locked into a chamber with riches surrounding him. Beside you, you heard him finally breathe once they sealed him in. When you turned to look, he was gone. You panicked, jumping and looking around you wildly for some sign of where he went. 

With a blink of your eye you found yourself in a hall, expanding seemingly forever. Fantastically giant pillars lined the walls, humongous statues beside him, art carved intricately into the stone. Sitting at a large, semicircle table made of dark wood that you hadn’t ever seen before, you gripped at your surroundings. Looking to your left, Bastet sat beside you. To your right were more grand deities, ones you had never met before and that you were nearly terrified to be in close proximity to. In the middle of the whole table was Ma’at, keeper of the balance and truth. Near her sat Osiris, who was flanked by his sisters Isis and Nephthys. On the other side of Ma’at was Thoth and Anubis, the latter of who seemed the most solemn of all. His hands were folded neatly together, placed on the table, unnervingly even. Beside Anubis, looking small, was his daughter Qebhet. 

All the gods, you noticed, had their heads on. Bastet had her cat head, Anubis with his long snout of a black jackal’s face. 

It was silent.

Far too silent. They all stared ahead, into the vast blackness of the never-ending hall, their brows furrowed or looking perfectly at peace, undisturbed by the slow passing of time.

“What’s happening?” You finally asked your mother, nudging at her dress.

“Ahkmen is special, to you. That is why you are here,” she said in a quiet, serious voice. Turning to gesture at the others, she continued with, “they have allowed you to be here. Do not press that privilege. You are lucky you even get to know the fate of your friend.”

You nodded. By all technicalities, even Bastet wasn’t supposed to be there either. She wasn’t part of the judging process.

Anubis stood suddenly, followed by his daughter and Nephthys, all three of which walked down from the platform on which the rounded table stood, walking down the hallway. You gulped, your throat tight as you watched them walk down the hallway to receive Ahkmen’s soul.

Despite wanting to follow you sat patiently, in the everlasting quiet, your eyes closed as you waited for sound. 

At last it came, the sound of footsteps, and from the darkness you saw the three forms of the gods joined by a fourth, one you knew to be Ahkmen. You tensed, your hands gripping at the wood, willing yourself not to jump up and greet him.

He kept his face down, the only sound still being the footsteps of the four, till he came to the middle of the room, and the gods joined you at the table. Clutched in his hand was the papyrus he’d been so worried about them forgetting, and when Ma’at cleared her throat, he looked up. She looked at the paper, and with quick, shaking hands he opened it, and began reciting his negative confessions.

“I have not committed sins against me,” he said, his voice firm but anxious, long breaths keeping himself under control. He hadn’t yet truly looked upon the table of judges before him, and had thus not seen you. “I have not wrought evil.”

You closed your eyes, hoping beyond hope that he would be alright. That he wouldn’t slip up, that he would weigh righteous against her feather.

“I have not inflicted pain.”

_Please, please, please._

“I… have not masturbated in the sanctuaries of the god of my city.”

You bit your tongue, taking a deep breath. You would not laugh. It’d be inappropriate and immature, you tried to tell yourself.

“I have not carried away the milk from the mouths of children.”

_Please, please, please._

“I have not stopped water when it should flow.”

_Please, please, please._

“I have not extinguished a fire when it should burn.”

_Please, please, please._

“I have not turned back the god at his appearances.”

At long last he looked up from his paper, his eyes immediately going to you, widening upon recognition. His mouth hung open and you nodded, looking at his paper to cue him into the fact that he wasn’t done. With another deep breath, he continued.

“I am pure. I am pure. I am pure. My pure offerings are the pure offerings of that great Benu which dwelleth in Hensu. For behold, I am the nose of Neb-nefu, who giveth sustenance unto all mankind, on the day of the filling of the Utchat in Anu, in the second month of the season Pert, on the last of the month. I have seen the filling of the Utchat in Anu, therefore let not calamity befall me in this land, or in this Hall of Maati, because I know the names of the gods who are therein.”

Ma’at turned to Osiris with unnerving steadiness, nodding in one, slow motion. He stood, his hands on the table to balance him before he came to stand in front of Ahkmen. From seemingly thin air, Osiris pulled his heart out, and with wide, shocked eyes Ahkmen watched as it was placed upon the golden scale in front of Ma’at. You watched in anticipation as Ma’at plucked a feather from her crown, small and white, placing it on the other side of the scale.

The weight jumped a little, but came steady. The two were equal.

You heard Ahkmen let out a breath, breathing steady for the first time since his body had been buried. With a quick glance to your mother, silently asking permission, she nodded, and you jumped from your position, running towards him. Your arms outstretched, you engulfed him in the tightest hug yet, feeling him bury his head into your shoulder, holding you back just as tight.

“I was so worried,” he said, not moving from his position. You didn’t either, keeping him close to you.

“I knew you’d be alright,” you said, brushing his hair with your hand.

Distantly you heard footsteps approaching. Upon finally breaking away from him you saw Anubis standing over the two of you, his eyes steady as they looked between you.

“Ahkmenrah. You have been allowed an easy trial due to Mahjur’s testimony,” Anubis spoke, his voice surprisingly smooth and easy to listen to. You hadn’t given any testimony, you remembered in an instant, but you said nothing. “I will guide you to Lily Lake. There you will meet Hraf-hef.”

“Yes, uh, thank you,” Ahkmen stuttered, bowing slightly in his gratitude. He grabbed your hand, pulling you along as Anubis departed. Without thought you followed, eager to spend just one more moment with him.

Then from behind a voice boomed, echoing through the empty chambers with a lilt that nearly crippled you to your knees.

“My child can not go with you,” Bastet said, but it wasn’t quite her. Like many of the judges, she was partial to having two natures - one for every day (that was usually kind and docile), and one for battle.

“What?” Ahkmen asked, looking confused. It was the first time he seemed to feel confident in his words since he’d entered the hall. 

“If Mahjur goes with you,” Bastet turned to look at you, “you will not return. And no one may visit you without getting trapped themselves. It is not a fate you wish to have.”

Eternity with him, locked away in a second world. The past week or so had been just fine, speaking only with him, but it was bound to drive you mad. As much as you loved him, one needed more than just one person they spoke to. Even if those other people weren’t really friends, it was necessary.

“Mahjur,” Ahkmen murmured, soft and pleading as he tugged gently at your hand.

Eternity without him, barred from ever seeing him again. You hadn’t ever lived without him truly. How would you fare? Would you grow away from him, or burn yourself into nothingness in his absence?

“I -“

You tried to speak, stopped when you noticed the weight of his hand in yours began to dissipate. Turning to him you found his form half gone, see through as it had been on earth. You rushed to him, trying to grab him, hold him in place, but he was gone before you could take another step closer, leaving naught but the space between you and Anubis. 

Around you you heard the horrified gasps of the gods, but it did little when you were met with stunning silence once more. Consumed in darkness you tried to see, reaching with shaking, scared hands for any sign that you were still alive. Eventually your eyes adjusted to the dingy light, finding there to be no light at all. You were sealed into the ground, surrounded by the many gifts given to Ahkmenrah.

You were sealed in his grace, and a sudden feeling of understandable dread came over you when you heard screaming. Turning around slow and terrified, you saw the lid of his sarcophagus jumping up and down each time it was pounded against, the screaming occupying it in its’ confused terror.

In sudden realization you jumped into action, unlocking the coffin, pushing the lid off, and helping him sit up. Still encased in wrappings you kept your eyes wide, wondering how awful he was going to look.

With careful hands you reached up behind his head, unwrapping him. It came off slowly, and when you were at last done, you were surprised. 

He looked perfectly fine. Healthier than healthy, actually, fighting fit and beautiful as the night he was anointed. 

“Mahjur,” he said, his voice shaking and his eyes impossibly wide. “This has been a very intense day.”

“I know, darling.”

“I really want to go to sleep,” he said.

“I know. Come here,” you comforted softly, helping him out of his grave and onto the bed they had so helpfully supplied for the afterlife.

“What’s happening to me?” He asked, his voice cracking as he put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“I don’t -“

“This is all that Khonsu’s fault! If he wasn’t so _damned_ sentimental, he’d, he’d… this would never had happened!” Bastet said, appearing before she even seemed to be speaking, pacing in front of you. Your eyes widened as you watched her, pulling at her ears with human hands.

“What do you mean?” You asked, trying not to aggravate her further.

“Oh - uh, just a moment,” she said, turning to the room, her eyes scanning over it. “It’s bound to be somewhere around here.”

As you watched her, you rubbed Ahkmen’s shoulders, helping him try to relax. He was still tense as ever, rubbing his temples as he tried to digest the many things that had happened to him within a very short timespan. 

“Here it is,” she said at last, pulling a golden tablet off the wall that seemed to glow with its own ethereal light. She handed it to you, and immediately you recognized the imagery to be your own. It had to be what Merenkahre was making for his son.

“I know this, I designed it. I don’t know what it does though,” you said, handing it back to her. Ahkmen looked up, watching with the same confusion as you.

“It brings to life that which is dead. Whether that be statues or carvings, or… you,” she said, turning to Ahkmen, who looked like he did not appreciate an old god looking at him.

“Shouldn’t everything in this room be coming to life then?” You asked.

“Look around, child of mine, and see.”

“I can’t, it’s too dark.”

Bastet sighed, a tired, weary sigh.

“Right. Night vision, you don’t have that because you don’t have the cat - okay, here,” she grumbled, lighting a torch with the materials she could find.

Eyes surrounded you. Stock still, following you in their statue forms that could not move. Mummified cats moved beneath their dressings, wriggling like they were full of worms. Paintings whispered about you, seeing for the first time your face. 

“Yikes.”

“We’re pulling Khonsu into court tonight, and you,” she pointed to Ahkmen, “will be there tomorrow morning. We will find how this magic works. For now… do whatever you children do.” She left.

You sat, your mouth parted slightly, the torch on the floor illuminating the hundreds of eyes. Ahkmen moaned miserably, putting his head in his hands again, leaning against you as you began rubbing his back again.

“Have you ever met Khonsu?” He asked after a while of you just sitting next to him.

“No. I have heard varying accounts on what he is like.”

“How foolish of my father to do this. What’d he think would happen? That I could free myself of my wrappings, open up an entire sarcophagus from the inside, and open up the giant door holding my own tomb closed?” He groaned, his voice cracking as he said tomb.

“Love blinds the lesser and the nobler to dangers and common sense. Grief can do the same,” you said quietly.

He was silent for another moment before he spoke.

“Mahjur,” he said, “how long have you known me?”

You pulled your hands away from him.

“All my life. I met you when I was four -“

“Four months. Yes. Why… why have you stayed beside me?”

“Where is this coming from?”

“Just answer,” he said, finally meeting your eye as he finished, “please?”

“… You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to stand for. I’m young and I don’t make good decisions which is probably why we ended up with so many reprimands, but my one truly good decision was being with you.”

“In what sense?”

“Hm?”

“You’re with me, in what sense?”

“I - I don’t… understand,” you said slowly, trying to think his words through in a way you might get.

“Never mind,” he mumbled, put off.

“Ahk,” you whined, pulling at his arm. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing!”

“It’s obviously not!”

“I’m still in love with you!” He practically shouted, untangled from his position before tangling himself right back into it, pulling his knees into his chest and hiding his face.

What could you say to that?

“Now isn’t the time, dearest.”

 _Nice going, that’s sure to make him feel better,_ you chastised yourself. 

“I know,” was all he muttered, keeping his face away from yours. You hurt him, you knew that, and though you weren’t aware of it until that point, you’d been hurting him for a while. It hadn’t ever occurred to you that he still had those sorts of feelings - you thought you were alone in your affections. However, in all reality, it really wasn’t the time. He was half dead and half alive and had just met the more terrifying set of gods, all of which can be a traumatic experience.

You put your arm around his shoulders, letting him fall against your side. He whimpered something you couldn’t fully hear, burying his head in your clothing.

“Things are… difficult, right now,” you said, keeping your voice quiet and low. “But I will always be by your side. I will fight each god if I need to.”

“Sounds dangerous,” he mumbled.

“It’s only common sense if it’s you.”

By the time daytime came once more, you’d helped him back into his wrappings, lying him down in his coffin.

“Don’t close it till I’m… you know,” he requested, and you complied, waiting till his cheeks hollowed and his breathing stilled before shutting the lid. You then closed your eyes, following the trail of his spirit back to the court full of judges. The long hall before you was lit by torchlight, the flames flickering as you watched.

Ma’at leaned forward, looking down on Ahkmen with a critical stare.

“What do you propose we do with you?” She asked, leaving your friend to speak.

“I - take away the uh, spell. Then I don’t come to, uh, life, anymore,” he suggested, keeping his head high.

“We cannot do that. It interferes too greatly with the fate of things.”

“But me being there and influencing every one of his decisions doesn’t?” You asked, standing up. Before you could even blink you were standing next to him, placed there by Osiris himself.

“Do you wish to be tried as well?” He asked, his eye wide with questioning near indistinguishable from anger. 

“Yes,” you said firmly, standing your ground. Behind you Ahkmen tugged at your hand, trying to calm your anger. You grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers and squeezing in affirmation that this was what you needed to do.

Osiris sniffed, clearly taken aback by your boldness, if not impressed. “Very well,” he said.

In the far corner, Bastet glared at you.

“There can be only one option,” Ma’at spoke once Osiris had taken his seat once more. All turned to her, waiting expectantly for her verdict. “Ahkmenrah will die each morning, and he will stay here and be judged. Hopefully you complete your sayings in time to be allowed into Aaru for a time before you will once more be submitted to life on earth.”

She spoke with such a cool formality, as though she didn’t believe Ahkmen was truly a living thing. Like she was above him in every way. Your fists clenched at her, in all her wisdom and age she was insolent. 

“That is unfair and cruel and you know it,” you hissed, practically seething. 

“It is the only option. You are young, you cannot know -“

“Yes, I am young, but I obviously know more than you!” You bit back, interrupting her. Right below the surface, beneath that confident, angry exterior you knew this was wrong. You knew how childish you were being but _damn_ you if you were going to let him suffer like this for all of eternity. “It’s in your hands and you _know_ this is the wrong thing to do!”

“Unless you have another option,” she spoke with a thousand fires behind her, backing up every word she used, “this is my final word.”

“Give me time. I will come up with something that will suit both parties,” you insisted, feeling Ahkmen tug at your hand but paying it no notice. 

“Until we convene once more tomorrow, we have other souls to judge.” With a flick of your wrist, you were gone. Sent away into some other space, a vast whiteness that spread for eons.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Ahkmen finally said, gasping as he spoke, clutching his hair in tight fists.

“What?”

“You - you argued! With Ma’at, who’s the fucking God of logic and justice, oh my gods!” He said, his eyes wide as he turned to you. He grabbed your shawl in a fist, pulling you towards him in a harsh manner. You couldn’t quite tell if he was excited or angry, the way all his muscles tensed and his mouth hung open.

“I said I’d do anything for you. I wasn’t lying,” you replied, coming closer to him with small steps.

“I know, I know, but… I just… again, I suppose it’s a lot. Very much a lot.”

“You could say that,” you laughed.

“So what’s your plan?” He asked.

“My what?” 

“To get me out of eternal purgatory,” he said, his brow furrowed and speaking in a suddenly soft voice. 

“I’ve got to think. Apparently we can’t stop you from dying every morning and coming back to life every night, so we’ll have to deal with that. Maybe every time you became, uh, this again,” you gestured vaguely to his spirit form which, if you saw in the street, you wouldn’t think anything of, “you could just come here, instead of facing trial.”

“So I’d spend half my time in a dingy cave filled with meaningless treasure and the rest of my time in a white desert.”

“Mm… doesn’t sound as good out loud,” you muttered, beginning to pace.

Together, you brainstormed, coming up with various, shoddy solutions to your dilemma. Every now and then one of you would get up and pace, eventually brought down by the other to the sitting position on the floor once more. This routine continued, till as you were rubbing your eyes tiredly, a thought came to you.

“Ahk,” you started with.

“Yes?”

“What am I the god of again?”

“The forgotten and abandoned. That, and, uh.. what was it… childhood love or something?”

“Exactly! The first part, exactly, I’m the god of the forgotten! I - I need to go for a moment,” you said, stuttering through your words as you went over your idea in your mind, churning it at record speed.

“Wait, don’t leave me!” He cried, grasping your wrist and igniting an old pain from an injury he’d given you long ago. You hissed and he relented, backing off quickly.

“I need to. I’ll be back in less than an hour,” you comforted him, holding his face in your hands. He sighed softly, leaning his head into your hold. “I’ll always come back for you.”

“Do what you have to,” he said finally, his hand lingering on yours as he pulled away. “I _will_ be counting though.”

“I’m counting on it. Get it?”

“Ha, ha,” he said, rolling his eyes, but a genuine snort did come out. You grinned, leaving with a snap of your fingers. 

Memphis seemed not to have changed too much. Statues of gods still lined temples and the palace, each and every animal being worshipped in some way due to their connection with a god. Keeping yourself invisible you entered the palace you once considered your home, crawling your way through shadows till you found the throne room. Atop the largest seat was Kahmuh, who seemed to be relaxing away his time. The servants in the room referred to him as Kahmunrah, a name which disgusted you, making you shrivel up your nose. 

As you assumed, Ahkmen’s brother had risen to power. That left the other question you had; did he erase Ahkmen’s statues?

Racing around the palace and the streets of the city, it seemed so. Every reference of him was destroyed, the faces of once grand effigies tarnished by the hands of slaves ordered by Kahmuh.

“By all accounts,” you said, addressing the court at large, Ahkmen tucked safely behind you, not one for facing the stares of gods. “Ahkmen is a forgotten man.” The following words you did not wish to say in front of him, but it was necessary for the court to hear, and he needed to be there at all times during its’ proceedings. “History will not remember him, and if I do recall, I am the deity of the abandoned. I protect them. He has been abandoned by his family, and his city, his people, and they have all forgotten him.”

Ma’at looked unamused, but she always looked like that, so you were beginning to think that was just her face. She cleared her throat, looking down at the paper before her. 

“You’re a new god,” she said, looking up for your confirmation which you quickly gave. “What do you do with these forgotten things you pick up?”

You stopped yourself from insulting her. Desperately you wanted to be able to respect her, but when she kept degrading Ahkmen, it was difficult.

“I protect them. They find solace in me, or whatever else they need, and I guide them.”

She nodded, closing her eyes in contemplation. You waited, watching each little micro movement of her face. The way she pressed her lips together, the small moment when her eyes closed tighter. You kept waiting, waiting for her word, but she said nothing.

“I would stay by his side when he is alive, and he will stay with me when he dies. I will make sure we do not cause any trouble,” you added when the silence became unbearable. 

“You had a habit for causing trouble when you were living as a child,” Thoth noted in a quiet voice.

“It was a time of no great consequence. Please, I beg of you. Life isn’t fair but you can make it so, at least for just this one time,” you asked of them, watching in careful anticipation as they looked at each other, communicating in small looks and quirks. At last she turned to you, her face hiding emotions you could not fathom.

“Have your way,” she sniffed, “and care for this child. But if he is ever discovered, if he ever be remembered, leave him. At that point he will no longer be in your domain, and you must forget him.”

“Of course,” you immediately agreed, not thinking of any consequence. Leaving him when he is known would be better than leaving him when he would be sorely, terribly alone. 

You held his hand tight, and with her dismissal you left, keeping him close to you. Your descent back down to the surface of earth was slow, and from your position you could watch tiny people flit about in their tiny lives, thinking their world so much larger than the others around them. 

“Are you sure you made the right decision?” He asked, pulling himself closer to you.

“I don’t know. All I know is that you won’t be alone anymore,” you said, speaking softly, not meeting his eye. 

“What if I am found? If - if I'm found, I will be lost.”

“You will make new friends.”

“None like you,” he murmured, holding your chin and forcing you to look at him. You sighed, casting your gaze downwards. You’d be utterly alone if he was found.

“No. None like you.”

  
By day you wandered the earth. Staying mostly in Kemet the scenery soon got boring, but it was better than the night. By night you spoke about anything, and soon everything began to run out. It seemed everything experienceable had already been done by you, and in his state, the numerous ways to live were limited. No new foods, no need to sleep. Days and nights grew long, everything meshing together till the only distinct in a hazy grey world was him. 

It was the fate you had chosen for yourself. No more stars. No more drink or food, no pleasure such as the sun shining on full skin. It wasn’t long till Ahkmen forgot to count the days, too busy counting seconds, far too concentrated on looking over the carvings of his tomb for the five hundred and sixty fifth time. You kept time though, vigilantly. It was a way to occupy the passing time. 

When you suggested leaving Kemet to explore the rest of the daunting world, six hundred years had passed. Six hundred years of feeling half the life of water around your ankles, six hundred years missing the taste of honey, six hundred years remembering what once was. Six hundred years loving him and never telling him. 

“Where would we go?” He asked, and despite the years behind him, he still held the excitement of a child. You smiled wide, grabbing his hands in the dim of the cavern.

“I don’t know,” you said excitedly. He grinned, toothy and wide, just as enlivened as you had become.

That morning you helped him back to sleep, kissing his forehead, watching as he turned back into the rubble he had become. Then, pulling yourself out of your own body you helped him, reaching into the gulfs of his tomb and pulling his soul far away from the dank room.

“Which direction?” He asked.

“Wherever the wind may lead.”

With a strong gust of wind you headed northeast, and with all the speed you could muster, you were halfway across the world by midday. Surrounding you were mountains covered in snow, something you scarcely saw. In such large amounts it astounded both of you, shivering despite your half alive states. 

“So, where do you suppose we are?”

“Asia?” You guessed.

“What’s Asia?”

“It’s uh, a place,” you stammered, unsure of how to define a continent.

“That’s so terribly helpful, thank you so much,” he sassed, crossings his arms in an attempt to keep warm.

“There should be a fire that way,” you said, pulling your shawl tighter over yourself and pointing down the slope.

“How can you tell?”

“I can smell it.”

“Stupid cat senses,” he muttered, trudging down through the deep snow. 

You happened upon a group who called themselves Huns. They could not see you but you still sat with them, enjoying the warmth of their fire and rather joyous laughter. You couldn’t partake in earthly pleasure, but you could certainly appreciate the sound of laughter, and the obvious telling of stories, though you couldn’t understand the language.

“Mahjur,” he spoke softly, pulling you to the side with the biggest, clearest smile you’d seen on him in centuries. “Let’s come back here tomorrow.”

You agreed easily.

When one spends enough time listening to a language, one picks it up. After fifty years that’s what happened to your dear friend, as well as you. The stories they’d been telling you found were not especially innocent stories, but some were entertaining to hear. Ahkmen soon realized both of you were fluent in the language, and thus started a new expedition in his life.

“I want to learn as many languages as possible!” He said to you, and his vigor and excitement melted you, and you so easily agreed. 

In your adventures you took him to so many places, interacting with nothing but seeing everything, like absent observers. If strong enough you could enjoy scents, leaning in too close to a pie who’s scent drifted from the open kitchen window, pressing roses too close to your noses to enjoy what it had to offer. You waded through massive oceans, finding warm and cold ones alike that, to both your surprise, ended up actually being the same ocean. The earth was one, big, massive ocean that had some land swelled up in it. Every evening without fail, before the stars could shine, before you could finally see their light again, he disappeared, and you rushed back to his tomb.

You always helped him out of his wrappings, and every night you’d talk about your experiences.

“These Roman people, they have fantastic food,” he said, focusing intensely on the memory of focaccia.

“You haven’t even tried it yet,” you giggled, staring mindlessly at him, caught up in your own admiration of him.

“I know, but you can practically taste it on the smell! And,” he looked at you, raising his eyebrows and pointing a finger at you, “I quite like the language.”

“It’s rather nice to hear, isn’t it?” You mused.

“It’s elegant! I can’t wait till I understand more of it!”

Two thousand years and you returned to Asia, hoping to refresh some of your Hun, finding them speaking an entirely different language. Ahkmen looked distraught upon the town as they spoke the vastly different dialect. You shrugged, turning to him.

“Best thing is you’ll get to learn this one as well.”

He gave a small, sad smile, but agreed, sitting on a bench with you. Together you watched as families passed by, small children and men, women and merchants, speaking a language that sounded like garbled noises but rolled off their tongue so smoothly.

“I’m starting to recognize some similarities,” he said to you on your tenth day of observation.

“Well, it is the same continent.”

“Fair point.”

With the similarities it wasn’t long till he picked it up, speaking near fluently with you.

“Have you ever wondered if we’re actually getting it all wrong? That a thing we’re saying isn’t what we think we’re saying?”

“That was a confusing sentence to hear, but yes. However I think we’re getting it right for the most part,” you said.

Even in all your conversations, endless silences and endless talks he never once brought up what had bothered him so many centuries ago.

_“I’m still in love with you!”_

_“Now isn’t the time, dearest.”_

When was the right time?

You finally found out. Years of maturity helped you grow with him, and eventually you found your answer. No time was going to be right till you made it so.

As always, the cave was enveloped in darkness, not a single stream of light getting through the walls. He rested his head on your shoulder, dozing as you both leaned back, sitting on the floor.

“Ahk,” you murmured, your cheek pressed into the top of his head.

“Mm?” He hummed softly, half asleep.

“Do you remember what you said to me,” you took a sharp breath, “when we were being tried?” Anxiety seemed to replace every blood cell in your body, overcrowding your breath and halting your thoughts.

“I said a lot of things I’m sure.”

“You know,” you said, choking up for no particular reason, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Mahj?” He looked up at you, pulling himself away to look at you better.

“What I said must have hurt you terribly. I never meant to do that. I - I was just… nervous, I guess.”

“This… this is about, how I said that I still loved you?”

“… Yeah,” you mumbled, hiding your face in your pulled up knees.

He scooted closer to you, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you so you could rest your head on his shoulder. You calmed yourself listening to his breath, feeling the slow up and down against your body.

“I don’t mind so much anymore. That doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop loving you like that, but. I understand that you aren’t - you don’t think of me like that.”

“ _Don’t think of you like that_? Are you insane? Ahk,” you tugged yourself away from his grasp, looking him in the face. “I loved you more than anything. I still do. My dearheart,” you held his face in your hands, watching as it grew red and teary, “I was scared. I’m not anymore. Not with you. Never with you.”

He let out a laugh, looking down in embarrassment as he grew more red in the face. Looking up he beamed at you, leaning in for a kiss sweeter than any shared before. No more words were shared that night, the only thing to be needed was one another. 

Two thousand more years, each day sweeter than the last in his arms.

Four thousand since his death.

Four thousand years spent together, when one afternoon spent exploring whatever the hell a cars was, he suddenly shot up. You looked up from the black wheels with a concerned look, asking him what was wrong.

“Something’s terribly wrong,” he said, frowning and looking back at you. In an instant that confusion switched to fear, his eyes widening, mouth parting and hand reaching for you as he tried to yell, silenced by his own disappearance. You bolted upright, running towards where he was standing, grasping at empty air, hands shaking from shock.

“His tomb has been opened,” came a cool, familiar voice from behind you. You whipped back around, finding Ma’at in a suit, fiddling with the cuffs, bearing a human head upon her shoulders.

“Is he safe?” You asked, first and foremost, walking to stand in front of her, desperate for an answer.

“Yes,” she answered simply, looking at you as a lesser being, looking as though she was almost sorry.

You fell to the ground, sitting cross legged as you contemplated your own life. You had submitted yourself to this. She sat down beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Visit him if you’d like, but do not interact. I will not punish you for that.”

Looking back up at her you found no deception, only a sadness that hit her too close to her heart.

“Thank you,” you murmured instead of crying, realizing that she was experiencing her own empathy. She nodded, patting your shoulder, and with that she disappeared.

You followed him, close behind, making sure he was safe, never interfering. Cambridge was his first stop, where the both of you, in separate lives, learned english. 

Watch.

Watch.

Observe.

 _Please don’t hurt yourself_.

From afar you watched him converse with the other exhibits that came to life from his tablet. From afar you watched him laugh, and from even further you watched him weep.

“I miss you,” he would say to himself when no one was around. He’d gotten a bad habit of talking to himself, but you knew the words were meant for you. They had to be.

“I know you’re listening. You… you wouldn’t give up on me that easily,” he’d say. “Would you?”

 _Never_.

You watched from afar as he was transferred across the ocean, to a new land you never got the chance to see. The whole place was overrun with people, flooding out of the woodwork, flitting about in daily lives that they’d come to regret too soon.

You watched as he was locked in his sarcophagus.

Night after night.

Screaming himself hoarse, pounding so hard on the lid it’d rattle like windows in a thundering storm. 

It became so difficult to watch year after year, but you stayed. Just in case. Maybe he could sense you were there. Probably not, but you would never leave him.

A change of the night guard and a healthy dose of thievery and fear led him to finally taking real, fresh air again. You gasped in your own relief, watching as he ran down the hallways, golden cape trailing behind him as he helped the strange man with the debacle he’d gotten himself into.

Sometimes he’d spend the night dancing, laughing and listening to the many stories each exhibit had. You smiled to yourself as you watched him live, glad his existence amounted to so much more than you could give him.

“I, uh,” he said, sitting down with a man who called himself Theodore, “I had this friend, once.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath halting in anticipation.

“Friend is a bit of an understatement,” he said, chuckling. “They were… I guess what you would call a soulmate. They gave up a lot for me.”

“Sounds like a good friend,” Theodore said.

“More than that.”

He explained how you were a god, and though it seemed the man didn’t quite believe him, he nodded, acting like he did.

“Mahjur, that was - that was their name.”

“Mahjur? I know that name. There’s a few stories concerning that god.”

You frowned. You hadn’t heard of these stories.

“Really?” Ahk asked, scooting closer. “Tell me one.”

“It’s long, so I’ll sum it up - the lesson is to be kind to everyone, as you never know if one could be a higher man! Such as your friend. In this, uh, story, Mahjur gave up everything to help this abandoned boy simply because the boy had been nice to them once.”

Ahkmen was quiet, absorbing the words, thinking of when you could’ve done that.

“They saved me. It’s foolish, but I think they’re still listening. I don’t think Mahj would give up on me. It’s probably just a fools hope though.”

“Never doubt hope, my boy. _That’s_ a foolish thing to do.”

Wise words, you thought to yourself, but you kept your eyes trained on Ahkmen.

“Perhaps you’re right. They would’ve done anything for me, least I can do is believe in them.”

Theodore pat his shoulder twice, leaving with a tip of his hat. Ahkmen watched as he rode off on his horse, resting his head in his hands once he was out of sight.

“I was right, Mahjur,” he said, and you perked up. His eyes watered as he gazed up at the ceiling, never spotting you from your hidden position. “I knew I'd miss you. I knew this decision of yours was a mistake.” His voice cracked and he wiped his eyes, sighing and leaning back against the wall. With a deep sigh he closed his eyes.

That evening, you paid little heed to Ma'at's warnings from so long ago. You snuck in and, atop his casket, you placed your gold necklace, and left before you could be seen. However, no matter what you told yourself, you couldn't stay to watch. 

You couldn't come back.

**Author's Note:**

> i did a LOT of research for this. I'm talking like fifteen different essays, loads of different websites, hour long youtube videos on egyptian history. hopefully it paid off :) thanks for reading! might do a part two if i can work it out...  
> Here’s a song that fits the ending of this story:  
> https://youtu.be/IgbPHTBiAVQ  
> Enjoy :)


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